You uncross your legs, knowing exactly where my eyes would be drawn, but you keep the together, not giving me the access that I crave, yet. I unbuckle...your shoes and slip them off, rubbing and caressing your covered feet, my large hands encompassing them. My hands lazily wander back up the outside of your calves up over the outside of your knees and onto the outside of your thighs. I run them further up, under the hem of your skirt and over the tops of your stockings. As my fingers come into. What struck me was the classic clothing and thelack of over-the-top image that I had expected.I stared at the screen for a bit. Anne broke into my thoughts."So Sean, you going to call up Whistler or what?" I don't know Anne I can't see myself in drag. Anyway the banjo strapwould probably snag on my bra."After the laughter our bass player spoke up, which was a rarity."Let's think about this. We wear black pants, floppy white shirts,sleeve garters and bright red vests when we play. I don't wear. More

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