" Going to bring back anything... special?" Denise asked slyly."I really don't think so! I never brought her up that way, honest!" They both dissolved...in giggles. Denise knew about Elizabeth's past as a 'child of the sixties' — she'd been in her mid twenties when things were 'happening', and had been a full part of the lifestyle. This after being a 'Mod', before meeting her 'Rocker' future husband. Denise had told her that, "It sounds like something out of Quadrophenia."Elizabeth went on, "That. NO!"I think the vehemence in my voice surprised Shirley. With a tiny voice, she asked, "What's wrong, Jim?" What's wrong? Everything is wrong! You're my girl friend. I don't want a fucking slave!"Shirley didn't answer. Instead, I saw tears in her eyes.I led Shirley to the sofa and we sat down. As we did so, the tears started to fall down her face.It was definitely time for a heart to heart talk."Shirley? I need to tell you something, and it's very important. Can I talk to you right now?"Shirley. But to have this slender woman show me her butt nearly had me blowing a load in my pants. The entire event lasted for about 4 seconds, but it would burn in my mind forever! As she regained her balance and stood up she casually tugged on the skirt and found a passage between the next set of tables and took her seat. She seemed not to care that her butt was in plain site, and there is no way that she could not have know how much she showed off. I had put my head down while trying to peek over the. My mother was not an especially feminine woman. She very rarely would apply any kind of make-up, and had a preference for a casual look of jeans and T-shirts. She didn’t care for anything frilly, and was a wearer of tights (pantyhose) as opposed to stockings and suspenders (garters). When she hung out her underwear it was a row of beige bras and panties, almost industrial by design. She definitely preferred comfort over styling.I would visit my grandmother at least a couple of times a year,.