"First, I have to tell you: what I'm about to show you is not porn," said the pretty blonde lady in the short dress.
She had invited me to sit next to her with all of the traditional signs: a crooked finger, a pat on an empty chair, and a warm smile that lit up her cutie-pie face.
I happily abandoned my second in-depth perusal of a two-month-old copy of People to take the proffered seat.
I had been waiting for exactly thirty-minutes; the lovely lady was a more than welcome distraction.
As I moved closer, I kept revising my age estimate for this lady. From across the waiting room, I had her at mid-thirties; up close, the crinkles around her big brown eyes and at the corners of her lightly-lipsticked little mouth made me peg her at around thirty-nine.
She had dark blonde hair that casually erupted into curlicues of tightly-wound curls that bounced over her shoulders whenever she moved. Her brown eyes were behind old-fashioned wire-rims--which were probably fashionable again.
She was seated, but I guessed that she was about 5' 6" and fairly slim. She had on a somewhat short but very professional-looking dress that I was sure was quite suitable for work.
Her dress was belted and dark pink. Her legs were absolutely adorable: thin, but with just the right amount of curves. She had the legs of a nineteen or twenty-year-old girl.
I stared into those eyes, enjoying the look of her pixie-ish face and her captivatingly wry smile.
Was she joking with me?
She gave me her hand.
"Lauren."
I introduced myself as Jim as I enjoyed her warm, firm touch.
Lauren let out a theatrical sigh as she touched her phone and handed it to me.
"Before you look: have you ever heard of 'Topless Teri Thompson?'"
Wow. My first thoughts were that either this was a joke--or that this sweetie was about to show me her secret OnlyFans page.
I shook my head 'no.'
Another sigh.
"Probably way before your time. That was--believe it or not--what they called my mother during her protest days."
Lauren touched her phone again. It was now in my hands and had locked. The first picture was black and white. It was of a tall, strikingly gorgeous brunette with long straight hair. She was holding a sign above her head that stated: 'Fuck the War-Mongers' and had on some Sixties-style bell-bottom jeans. She had nothing on above her waist, and those lifted-up, big-nippled breasts had to be at least 38Cs.
Third sigh.
"Obviously, I didn't take after Mom in the boobs department; I am barely 34B."
I glanced around, nervously. There was no one else in the room... it was an automatic, 'guy scrolling NSFW material' reaction.
The receptionist had cleared out at 5:01: ten minutes after I'd arrived for my five o'clock appointment. Poor Lauren was already here... who knew how long she'd been waiting.
"5:31," she said, glancing at her smartwatch. "In five minutes it'll be an hour."
So: in addition to providing me with topless entertainment, she was also a mind reader.
I continued scrolling through her phone. I noted that her mom was wearing different garments below the waist in each pic: a miniskirt, ripped jean-shorts--even a bikini bottom. It was a mix of color and black-and-white.
Lauren was watching me closely--leaning in. She had such a fresh, clean scent. She suddenly put her hand on mine.
I looked up.
"The next--and last--photo is a bit different. It's an awfully grainy black and white 'cause it's copied from a magazine. And it's... different."
Okay. What a buildup! I slowly scrolled...
Lauren's mom was viewed only from the side this time. There was a bare left breast, a bare left leg--but also a bare left hip. She was nude. Most eye catching was a shock of dark fur peeking out from behind her left thigh.
Fourth sigh.
"The magazine got hundreds of angry letters and cancelled subscriptions. This was the early Seventies. My mom always claimed that she out-bushed Hefner; this was allegedly the first appearance of pubic hair in a national magazine."
Wow. I sat back.
"Was she ever arrested?"
A nod. "Nine times: eight for indecent exposure, once for trespassing. She served fifty-nine of ninety days for trespassing."
I shook my head as I handed pretty Lauren back her phone. Well: that was certainly more entertaining than People, but...
"I've been waiting fifty-five minutes now. I mean... this is ridiculous. I feel that... somebody has to finally make a stand."
She let out a long breath and leaned back in her chair.
"I've been trying to connect with my mom's brave spirit--and her obvious craziness! All they're gonna do--if and when they ever call me back--is put me in the exam room, have me strip to my panties and put on an exam gown. So... I thought..."
Sigh number five (I was keeping count.)
"I thought... why not strip down out here? I mean... it would save some time... and it would be the kind of protest my mom was infamous for.
"Oh: this isn't about Vietnam or nuclear power--but right now it's important to me!
What do you think?"
And that was it. That was the ultimate reason for the crooked finger and the pat on the seat. Lauren needed not only a sounding board--she needed a co-conspirator.
She waited for my response... for any sign of intelligent life.
I was silent and still.
It was one of those moments in which the space-time continuum was about to split in one of two ways.
Okay. Maybe not. It was really only about a pretty lady asking me if I thought it was crazy if she stripped to her panties--right in front of me.
I could have said:
"I'm a married man!" but I saw a ring on the lady's finger;
"I'm a respected businessman!" but Lauren was also dressed professionally.
I said: "It's okay." Now I was the one sighing. "Whatever you decide to do, it's up to you. But I will be here for you."
Lauren gave me such a big smile. Then she blushed and stared at the floor.
She stood up.
"The belt is just for show," she informed me. She turned her back to me. "Can you unzip me?"
It was the last moment. There was probably no turning back from this. Yes, zippers unzipped can be zipped up again, but... the die was cast.
I slowly unzipped her.
Women still have no idea of how wondrous they are to men who love them. Every little bit of newly exposed skin of a fresh new girl is like a shining, new star--a true nova lighting up the heavens. A bared shoulder, a glimpse of a dimpled, pretty knee, the small of the back where the spine dissolves into soft flesh--all of those precious sightings are like Galileo discovering the moons of Jupiter, the rings of Saturn--over and over again.
Lauren's bared back was no different. Her skin had an overall golden glow.
"Everybody asks: I rub in 'Golden Slumbers' body lotion, all over, every night. I think you can see it works."
I could indeed.
I reached that special unzipping moment in which the first sighting of the lady's lingerie is made. Lauren's bra clasps were satiny white.
"If I had known such a great guy was gonna take my dress off, I might've worn something a little sexier under it."
"You look fine," I said... more like I gulped.
I got the zipper as far down as it went. Unfortunately, it did not descend far enough for even a glimpse of Ms. Lauren's pretty panties.
Then she surprised me by turning to face me as she pulled her dress over her shoulders and down to her waist.
Lauren presented her bra-encased breasts to me--not defiantly, but simply 'well, here they are!'
"Not much to see on top," she announced.
I shook my head in disagreement.
