A Painted Thief

 
When the air hangs heavy, with the dew point pushing 80, a can of spray-on pantihose is a girl’s best friend. The best way to put it on is standing fully dressed on a few sheets of newspaper and spraying your legs in short strokes of color. Miss D and Miss R sat in the hot darkness enjoying an after-theater drink and meal at an Irish pub not far from Madison Square Garden. The girls renewed their friendship, Miss D doing much of the talking and Miss R listening with that mix of gentle, friendly intelligence you rarely find in the city. Panties was reminded of her limited part of what might at first look to be three girls at a table in the garden– she could join in the conversation only up to the point where Miss D would cut her off with a look, or a firm “Panties!” when she was speaking in too many statements, rather than in submissive questions, or when she sounded anywhere close to relating to either girl as someone who might hope for something more than an air kiss or a girly hug at the end of the night. When Panties expressed an insufficiently modest opinion about the play, Miss D loudly suggested that Panties herself write a play about panties. Earlier Miss D had told Panties she should start looking forward to kissing a man which would in fact, not be a homosexual act, but simply a straight expression of feeling between a woman to a man. Later... long after midnight, Panties found herself silently following Miss D into a basement event filled with drab, shlubby men and hard-bodied girls in heavy makeup and short, tight outfits. Miss D instructed Panties to find a man and give him a lap dance. She left Panties sitting next to an elderly Asian girl and went to the ladies room. (Continued...)