And one of the dresses had belonged to my mother. We met on the rocky bed of the Thames at low tide. It was gray and very windy. I said I didn’t us...ally wear this kind of dress. But it was for charity. “One knee on the pebbles,” he said. “I don’t usually take this kind of photograph. But it’s for charity.” The dress blew up around my ears. My legs. Did I mention my legs? Sometimes I think my legs have a life of their own. Sometimes I eat a lot of cake to see if they’ll notice me. It doesn’t. ‘I would like to explore your crotch while you play with mine.’ ‘You’re so wet,’ gasped Pauline. ‘You too.’ ‘And slick.’ ‘Oooooh, you hit the good spot.’ Pauline giggled. ‘This reminds me of the eighth grade when girls hid in the john at recess and played tickle-tickle.’ ‘You did that?’ ‘Constantly.’ ‘Our Phys-Ed teacher caught us once. She said we’d go blind if we kept it up.’ ‘Did you quit?’ Ruth Eleanor laughed. ‘Not yet.’ ‘Me too.’ ‘Last time I was diddled like this in a car, I was still a. More

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