I argued and argued that it was only a few blocks and we could walk home but there was no budge in them. It was their way or not at all.I wondered what I should wear. I cajoled my mother into letting me buy a new dress for the dance. At the store I wanted to get an off-the-shoulder very short party dress but my mother wouldn't hear of it. We finally settled on a pretty pink dress with a v-neck that came just above my knees. I wanted to get a padded bra, but again my mother said no. (I had been wearing training bras up until this point.) We finally found a double A cup that would fit and she relented and let me get it. My only real victory however was the pair of high healed shoes and the pink frilly panties that would complete my outfit.On the night of the dance, I started to get ready at 5:00 o'clock and was really ready by 6:00. My mother put on a little rouge and some eye shadow and some really light lip stick. When Ken arrived I was sitting in a chair in the living room waiting. From this awkward bent pose she was able to discard the wet garment into her athletic-grip before collecting a hair brush that was pressed into the practiced action of curing her golden locks after assuming an upright stance affording her the freedom to untangle her fair-haired mane. Common sense would predict this arrangement could become an x-rated disaster as dynamic tension was commissioned into service as this presumptuous lady’s only defense from total exposure. Centrally position and Spartan underneath her terry cloth garb the naked dryad challenge providence by arrogantly setting to work with a hair bush as she used both hands upon this task. Together her arms worked high above her shoulders combing-out those golden tresses. Haughtiness be dammed, this aqua-maid was pulling out all the stops as her personal grooming forced the hem of her wrap to rise provocatively high when she gathered the hair into a yellow ponytail. All her teammates redirected their attention skyward away.
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