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”So I hopped behind the wheel and began the nearly hour and a half drive to Aunt Marsha’s house. Aunt Marsha was a bit eclectic, not really pretty, but she had a rack that needed turn signals. I do not know her measurements but ‘busty’ does not do her justice.As mom closed her eyes to fend off her head ache, I reminisced about the last time we visited Aunt Marsha’s house. Mom hugged her sister and then Aunt Martha hugged me, but she is short, I’m tall and so I got on my knees as a joke and Aunt. "Get on the bed," he ordered. I kicked off the ruined panties and slid out of my skirt then climbed up on the bed. He followed me tipping the small mattress dangerously. I lay down on my back as he loomed over me. His muscular arms pined me between them. He slipped his knees between my legs and spread them apart with his legs. He still had his clothes on and I didn't know what he was going to do. Daddy grabbed the front of my button down shirt and ripped it open, sending buttons flying. He returned to her front and pulled gently on the shoulders of the corset. The corset was visible to her waist, where there were petticoats around it.“The petticoats,” she said.“Then take them off.”Bridget didn’t have a choice. She removed the petticoats and brought them to the closet. She draped them over the crossbars of two hangers. Finally, she removed the corset and draped it over a chair. She turned to him in her camisole with her face burning.Jim barely noticed her face. All his. As I reach to take my own glass you stop me with another firm lift of your open palm. Before I have a chance to translate my surprise and confusing into a coherent sentence, you tell me that I look nice. That you are pleased with how I have dressed. And you ask me to stand in front of you and let you look at me, after all this time. It’s not unreasonable, is it? Don’t we often ask friends to show off their outfit. That’s all it is. I bury the thought that you are speaking to me like a director.
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