Down and dirty? Like you like?" She made a very delicate, feminine gesture of a woman squatting to pee."For your birthday, we want to be kinky with yo..., in the bed of one the queens of it....would you like that?"If you can imagine me without words."But you have to sing a song for us in that dress, Sylvia, do you understand?"Did I understand? I had the song in my head before she posed the question.So there I was, a snotty, bratty little girl, not at all pretty, sixteen, in Edith Piaf's 1948. If I’m sitting close enough, I’ll get a whiff of your aftershave, you smell wonderful and when you aren't too preoccupied with the problems of your world, you actually look around and smile at people, but seldom at me.I'm a woman of a certain age, whom you probably wouldn't think twice about in a sexual way, the only smile you send my way is one of benevolent patience as you wait politely for me to exit ahead of you.Little do you realize that you have been the focus of several of my fantasies. I really got carried away and bought a bullet pouch for my belt to hold the spare .44-40 cartridges. I was going through money like it was water, but I had no other place that I wanted to spend it, so why not have some fun with it?Of course, Amarillo, itself, was no place for a couple of low-end bounty hunters like us since there was too much of a chance of walking into a bullet if we let ourselves be known. Therefore, we headed north toward the Oklahoma panhandle after we had restocked our. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I thought you didn’t want me to become a pervert. Didn’t you lecture me about that once?” The words were barely out of my mouth when I had a full-blown, living color memory of Sandra smiling shyly and wearing little more than these very panties. For about thirty seconds I just stood there, my mouth agape. Then, as Sandra had instructed, I closed my eyes and sniffed – lavender – her signature scent. “Aunt Pat… She gave these to you.” “You remember.” She whispered..