. for her.It was the next Friday night before she came to the realization that all she had to do was go to Christy's Puppet Palace. She would take her camera. And when he danced ... she'd get her picture.It was dark, though there were lots of colored lights scattered around the room, on the walls, ceiling and tables. She'd expected it to be smoky, but it wasn't. She remembered the recent city ordinance passed that banned smoking in businesses.There was a long bar along one wall, with sections of mirrors on the wall behind it. Bottles of all kinds, holding different colors of liquids lined glass shelves in front of the mirrors. A man, his upper torso naked except for what looked a little like a cleric's collar and a black bow tie stood behind the bar, talking to a woman perched on a bar stool. He was flirting with her as she played with the little umbrella in her drink.The thump of bass rhythms came from speakers flanking a small stage. In front of the stage were scattered ten or so. A fear that stiffledarousal.Stripped of her previous feelings of her illicit, hidden but beautifullyrestraining and luxurious feminine underwear she felt that something wasmissing. The feeling that it was only she who knew!Now that she was wearing obviously feminine and clothes on the outsidewithout those inner hidden feelings she felt suddenly exposed.She felt suddenly aware that her open collared fitted blouse was onlyworn by the checkout girls and that her trousers were so femininely cutthat they could never be mistaken for anything other.She heard her first steps click on the hard shop floor, her modest heeledcourt shoes regulating her pace.She still felt the reminding tug of her bra straps and the constantreminder of its rustling, uncomfortable contents as she moved. She alsofelt the confinement of her control pants and cheap black tights as shewalked.She knew that Miss Havlin's choice for her underwear was in fitting witha working girl and that she should respect her.
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