”“It’s my husband, officer…he’s not feeling too good.”“What’s wrong with him? Are you trying to get him to a hospital?’She let out a...small laugh and smiled at me. I could see she was drop-dead gorgeous…at least to me. “No, he’s drunk after losing all our money.”“I’m sorry to hear that ma’am…”“My name is Angelina, you can call me Angie.”“So I see…Angie” I glanced at her license, “I’m sorry to hear that but I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you a ticket.”“You don’t have to,” she said with coy. "All we have left areheels, skirt, and blouse." The unfamiliar words echoed in my mind, threatening anotheroverload. I carefully husbanded the little breath the corset allowedto me and waited for these latest assaults on my senses. The blousewas first, all lace and ruffles, extravagantly feminine. Another ofmy "suggestions" at work, that she should dress in more femininestyles. I sighed (well almost, I didn't have enough breath for a realsigh) and fed my arms into it. It fastened up the. More

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