The F-Word

“Yes. In the bedroom. But—”

I grab her hand and hurry her out of the kitchen, through the hall and to the door at the end. Her bedroom. It stops me for a minute. It’s, well, it’s not Bailey. Or maybe it’s just not the Bailey I thought I knew all these years, because that Bailey would not have a room done in white and what I guess you’d call peach, with multiple pillows strewn over the bed and—what do you call that thing coming down the sides of the mattress, some kind of ruffled skirt. There are silver candlesticks on the dresser across from the bed with peachy-colored candles in them…

And while I’m standing there gaping, she frees her hand, walks to a closet, opens the door and yup, there’s a mirror.

She looks at me.

I signal that she should turn around and look at herself, not at me. She hesitates, takes a deep breath, turns, and…

She claps her hands to her face. “My skirt is gone!”

I laugh. “It’s not gone.”

“You left most of it on the floor in the living room!”

“I left the part you don’t need on the floor in the living room.”

She shakes her head wildly from side to side. “It’s too short.”

“It’s just right.”

And it is. For the third time in the past five minutes, I notice she has great legs. In fact, I bet she has great everything else, if we can just get to see some of it.

“What’s under the jacket?”

“The dress, of course.”

“Not a, you know, a shirt?”

“A blouse? No. It’s a dress. But—”

I walk up behind her, turn her around, and reach for the buttons on the jacket. Her hands slap at mine.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to see the dress.”

“You’re not supposed to see it. That’s the reason for the jacket.”

“Then why isn’t it just a suit instead of a dress?”

She stares at me. “Because it isn’t a suit. It’s a—”

“Exactly. It’s a dress. Jacket optional.”

“You’re supposed to wear them together.”

“Fashion advice from Violet the Vile?”

I can see she doesn’t want to laugh, but she does. Meanwhile, I begin undoing buttons.

One. Two.

I can see her throat. It’s lovely throat, long and smooth-looking, with a rapid beat in the hollow.

Three. Four.

Better and better. The dress actually begins just above her breasts. In fact…