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I guess technically as suggested. After I had them onI immediately felt strange. It was clearly a different set of hemming andstitching in places where I had never felt hems and stitches before. Asmall weight on my shoulders, a tightness around my chest and a slightcupping around my nipples. And then there was my penis and balls barelyencased in a triangle of fabric and a flattish ribbon of cloth threadedthrough the crack of my butt and tickling my ass whenever my legs shifted.In the back of my mind a word was trying unsuccessfully to force itself onmy consciousness, a word for the kind of man who did what I was now doing.But I was too busy feeling the strangeness to quite get it in my head.I returned to the table. Before I could sit I had to stand before heragain as she proceeded to unbuttoned two buttons on the white shirt I hadbeen asked to wear. It was the button just at the top of the bra, thetopmost that I had buttoned, and then she skipped a button and unbuttonedone just below. Richard looked at me, and I nodded. One dance wouldn't hurt anything and I wanted this situation defused, not escalated. "I'd be happy to," I said, slipping off my stool.To my chagrin, the song playing in the background ended and taking its place was an old Motown tune, a velvety love song. I placed my purse on the bar and asked Richard to watch over it. "Be happy to," he answered, anything but happy. But he slid back onto his stool and linked his fingers together, one elbow on the edge of the bar, the other propped on the back of his stool. He looked like a pit-bull, sizing up a victim.The young man led me out to the small area considered the dance floor. I obediently moved into his arms and we started to dance. He laid claim to me like he would a prized winning."I'm Eric," he said confidently, his competition momentarily forgotten."Marci. And you are very rude, Eric. You know that, right?" Ouch. That was direct." He laughed. "Someone had to rescue you from grandpa." I didn't need.
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