My arms slipped into the sleeves just fine but thewristbands were a bit tight. Still, with a little push from me and a pullfrom Molly, my hands slipped in just fine. Molly lifted the jacket overmy shoulders and, as she did, Lisa quickly stepped forward and pulled thejacket around me as she began fastening the waistband. Only then did Irealize how they had trapped me.The wristbands of the jacket were tight simply because past thewristbands the sleeves of the jacket ended in fingerless mittens.Moreover, the sleeves were actually attached to the pockets of the jacketwhich made it impossible to withdraw my hands. Not only that but, withLisa fastening the jacket at the front I couldn't even try to shake thejacket off. Finally, after Lisa had closed the jacket zip, which forcedmy arms tighter to my body, both Lisa and Molly then set about fasteningthe other half of the pop studs on the jacket waistband to those on theskirt. This effectively turned my new outfit into a. There he was, in line, his strong back a mere feet from her touch, But she needed to be patient. Here was a man worth being patient for. With a chance to look without being seen, she shook her head as she recalled how modest he was, how self-deprecating, how disbelieving when she told him how gorgeous she thought he was. Here was a model-perfect man. And she should know, because husband #1 had modeled when they were in college together. The ideal male model in America, they had been told, was 5’10 to 6 foot tall, and under 180 lbs. Both men were that. But he somehow thought himself lacking. As he turned with a carrier of Pepsi, she stood where she was and withdrew her sunglasses, but she didn’t remove her ball cap or shake down her hair. He liked athletic looking women, she knew, and she suspected his gaze would be drawn to her today, dressed as she was in short white shorts, a pearl gray Vikings T shirt, and tennis shoes. She had gone through her entire lingerie collection to find.
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