Monday, March 1, 2010
Panties was in her nightie lingering over the last thoughts of the day when she remembered it was the final day of the month. She did not exactly jump out of bed to put on her pad and sanitary belt, nor did she look forward to the extra time in the morning dealing with her first heavy flow. She was grateful it didn’t come earlier, like the night Miss D caught her in a moody moment and asked her to reenact something she had heard Miss J had enjoyed. “You should understand that I’m a very empathic person and I pick up on other’s moods, so the last thing we do tonight, I want you to put on the pink polka dot date panties (Miss C) made you buy and then you’re going to lie on your back and spread your legs and kick your legs up in the air like a cockroach (that can’t get up). Then you’re going to flip over on your belly and crawl like a slug and touch your nose to the glass.” She thought a moment and continued: “Then I want you to come up on your hands and knees, table top and shake your hips and do a panty dance for me. Then you’re going to bark like a dog.” Panties was emphatic about not giving her this to remember forever, but she pressed on: “Come on, I know you can do it. Lie down on your back. Come on.... Otherwise I’ll pour wine on you. I’m sure you’d rather do it without having to clean up the mess.” Anyone passing in the dark, tropical street below the balcony might have heard her clear, gay laugh.