" "You could put it in a glass slipper." "I don't have a glass slipper," she giggled. ... "You could put it in a glass and then put the glass in a slipper." "I could slip it into something more comfortable." "You could comfortably slip it into a flower bed, but do you think it would take root?" "I'm sure I could coax this rose into taking root." . Inside was layer upon layer of white cloth. ‘Put it on. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.’ I dried myself off and put the thing on. It turned out to be a peignoir. I felt like an idiot. The major approved of it rather vocally. He seated me at the table and served the first course from a set of sacks in the fridge. I nibbled at my meal, too nervous to dig in. I wondered at his motives for this little presentation. The man wanted conversation. We discussed everything from politics and religion to. She reached out and squeezed the hand of the woman she was escorting for moral support before the door opened.“Si?” The woman answered, confused by the sight of her dear friend whom she wasn’t expecting to stop by, but more so by the red-masked woman accompanying her.“Hi, my name’s ... er ... Cupid’s Helper. Are you Angelique?” Susan asked in Italian. She nodded. Susan turned back to the woman she’d approached the door with, a look from behind the mask asking her “Is this the right Angelique?”. ”I turned to walk away, he gave me a playful swat on theass and said, “But yes, yes I would.” I looked at him, stuck my tongue out, wiggled my ass,and said, “Snack time.” He laughed. I then got the double entendre. I blushed,laughed and said very slowly, as if speaking to anidiot, “Time to MAKE the snacks.” He feigned innocence, and with faked hurt in his voicesaid, “Of course, that’s what I meant.” I went to the fridge to get some.