It was a bright, blue, cold day in February. As she walked towards me, I could tell that she had a neat figure. She was dressed in a beige trench coat and colourful scarf. She was wearing high heels and walked carefully so that I was reminded of a glider; smoothly weaving her way through the other shoppers. The advertisement had said, "Very shapely woman wishes to meet caring man who can appreciate her style and wishes." I have always had a real liking for very shapely women, not just big breasts but good proportions and especially small waists. The advertisement was irresistible and so we were meeting.
We met and shook hands. "I'm Claire," she said.
I asked if she would like to drive out to a country place for a drink, perhaps.
She asked, "What car to you have?" It seemed a strange question but I told her that I have a MPV, people carrier, 4x4, whatever we wished to call it.
"That's fine," she replied and she saw the unspoken question in my face. "Because I cannot sit into a low car. I'll tell you later. Maybe I'll show you."
We went to the car and I helped her into the passenger side. It was true: she moved stiffly and could not bend her shoulders and hips into the seat. When she was comfortable, I drove off and we talked as we travelled. She told me about her life as the information manager for an international university. She was very knowledgeable about computers but also students and academic finances. Then, at one point in our 30-minute journey, she unbuttoned her trench coat and let it fall either side of her legs. I saw that she was sitting with a very flat tummy and also absolutely still as the car moved a little on corners. Under the coat, she had on a bright print dress and a this loose linen jacket. I tried to watch her and take a look at her figure but somehow she was hiding it from me and, anyway, I had to drive the car.
On one particular corner, the car lurched as we climbed a gradient at the same time as turning sharp right. Any passenger would have moved a little and she did a surprising thing. She placed one hand on the door rest to steady herself, but the other hand pressed into her waist. It was then than I saw what "shapely" meant. Her hand disappeared into the folds of the linen jacket and then moved further towards her waist and then further and then further again. All this happened in a second or two but when her hand got to her waist she wrapped her fingers round to grasp her waist, and I could see that she wasn't just pressing on her waist. She was actually holding it as if it were her arm or her ankle.
She saw my gaze even as I let the car slow down for safety. I was much more interested in her than in the journey or even in any other road user. I pulled over to the side of the road at the first opportunity. I swivelled in my seat and looked her full in the face.
"What is your waist like?" I asked. "It seems tiny."
"It is tiny," she said softly, "smaller than any waist you will ever see. Now you may not want to be with me any more."