Friday, December 17, 2004
The deluge hits. We go from dry to soaked in a matter of seconds. I am trying to pull you along so you don't get soaked through, but you insist on strolling rather than rushing. Me? Already way too late to keep any portion of me dry. I feel (and am sure I look) like a drowned rat. Water pouring off my hair onto my dress, and running in small streams down my chest.
Finally we come to the overhang outside the entrance. I pull you under it, and try to assess the damage. You're drenched. But you have the strangest grin on your face. I look down to see what's so damned funny, and then I see it. "I can't go in there like this." "You can and you will," you reply as you take my hand again and begin leading me to the doors.
I quickly use my other hand to wring out as much of my dress as I can before we get to the door. You open it, and we step inside. It feels as though it is freezing in there, because the air conditioning is going full blast, and I am soaked to the skin. My dress is so wet it is plastered to my body, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. I attempt to fluff it up a bit, to create some distance between the fabric and my body, but it is far too wet for that. You are dragging me along, and I just give up and try to keep up with you. You're moving fast, and I have no idea where you're taking me. We get into the center of the mall, and you stop. You just stand there, looking at me. When I ask where we're going, you say "What do you want to look at?" Well, given the opportunity, I'm going to look at shiny things. So I drag you to every jewelry store window in the place. You feel safe in indulging this, because as you so nicely point out, I have no purse, therefore no money and no credit cards, so I can't get myself into any trouble. Well, not that kind anyway.
I continute to drag you from window to window, happily ignoring anything that isn't at least partially gold. We are headed for yet another window display, when you stop short. I try to keep going, as we are standing in front of a clothing store, and clothes are just nowhere near as much fun to look at as diamonds. But you won't budge, and so I look up to see the display you're studying. I look at the display, and down at myself, and back at the display, and I let you know in no uncertain terms that I'm not going into that store. My dress is clinging far too much, my nipples are protruding because I'm still wet, and now cold to boot. And you want me to go in there? I don't think so. Besides, I remind you, I'm not wearing any panties. And you have to wear underwear to try on underwear. It's a rule.
One of the saleswomen comes out and invites us into the store. (I hate pushy sales people.) You politely decline, telling her that you think I need to dry off a bit first. As she walks back into the store, you let me know that we will be going back, and I will be trying things on. I protest, reminding you again about my distinct lack of panties, and you reach into your pocket. You start pulling something out, something black and pink and from my suitcase. You make sure I have recognised the panties, the sheer black ones that are the only ones you allow me to bring when I travel. I reach out for them, and you stuff them back into your pocket, saying "I said when you were dry." No panties for me until you're ready. (Me? I am ready now.)
Finally we come to the overhang outside the entrance. I pull you under it, and try to assess the damage. You're drenched. But you have the strangest grin on your face. I look down to see what's so damned funny, and then I see it. "I can't go in there like this." "You can and you will," you reply as you take my hand again and begin leading me to the doors.
I quickly use my other hand to wring out as much of my dress as I can before we get to the door. You open it, and we step inside. It feels as though it is freezing in there, because the air conditioning is going full blast, and I am soaked to the skin. My dress is so wet it is plastered to my body, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. I attempt to fluff it up a bit, to create some distance between the fabric and my body, but it is far too wet for that. You are dragging me along, and I just give up and try to keep up with you. You're moving fast, and I have no idea where you're taking me. We get into the center of the mall, and you stop. You just stand there, looking at me. When I ask where we're going, you say "What do you want to look at?" Well, given the opportunity, I'm going to look at shiny things. So I drag you to every jewelry store window in the place. You feel safe in indulging this, because as you so nicely point out, I have no purse, therefore no money and no credit cards, so I can't get myself into any trouble. Well, not that kind anyway.
I continute to drag you from window to window, happily ignoring anything that isn't at least partially gold. We are headed for yet another window display, when you stop short. I try to keep going, as we are standing in front of a clothing store, and clothes are just nowhere near as much fun to look at as diamonds. But you won't budge, and so I look up to see the display you're studying. I look at the display, and down at myself, and back at the display, and I let you know in no uncertain terms that I'm not going into that store. My dress is clinging far too much, my nipples are protruding because I'm still wet, and now cold to boot. And you want me to go in there? I don't think so. Besides, I remind you, I'm not wearing any panties. And you have to wear underwear to try on underwear. It's a rule.
One of the saleswomen comes out and invites us into the store. (I hate pushy sales people.) You politely decline, telling her that you think I need to dry off a bit first. As she walks back into the store, you let me know that we will be going back, and I will be trying things on. I protest, reminding you again about my distinct lack of panties, and you reach into your pocket. You start pulling something out, something black and pink and from my suitcase. You make sure I have recognised the panties, the sheer black ones that are the only ones you allow me to bring when I travel. I reach out for them, and you stuff them back into your pocket, saying "I said when you were dry." No panties for me until you're ready. (Me? I am ready now.)
