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Archive-name: MrWade/mrwade90.txt

Archive-author: Master Wade

Archive-title: MRWADE= Filled Stockings, Part One

It wasn't a short skirt. Had she been standing on the floor

rather than on the fourth rung of the library ladder I probably

wouldn't have noticed her legs at all; certainly not as easily.

She was reaching for a book high on the top shelf of the

bookstore wall when I turned the corner, and her nylon covered

calves were the first thing I saw.

I stood quietly and watched her retrieve the book and come down

the ladder. While the skirt wasn't short it was rather tight

fitting, and as she moved the material hugged and caressed her

well-shaped bottom and upper thighs, confirming in a subtle but

unmistakable way my suspicions and hopes about the undergarments

she wore. I smiled inwardly as in my own mind I gave her garter-

belt a life and personality of its own and pictured it winking at

me and saying, "Yes, you're right, I'm under here, just like you

wanted me to be... and I'm glad you noticed!"

I picked a book at random from the shelf nearest me, opening it

and watching her as I turned the pages idly. Still unaware that I

was observing her, she looked back over her shoulder as she stuck

one foot slightly out to the side, checking to see if her seams

were still straight. When she turned her head the other way to

check the other stocking she caught me watching her and smiled

with just a touch of embarrassment. Before I could even return

her smile she had turned away again and had begun walking around

the corner of the aisle we were in.

Not wanting to appear too obvious, I waited for a moment and then

followed. By the time I found her again she was at the checkout

counter paying for her purchase. I also had purchases to make,

but before I could work my way to the counter she had left the

store and was walking away down the sidewalk. Eager to find some

way to introduce myself to the attractive young woman and finding

the prospect of not seeing her again totally unacceptable, it

seemed to me as if the clerk moved in slow motion as she rang up

my purchase.

Finally the transaction was completed and I left the store,

disappointed to see an empty sidewalk in front of me as I turned

in the direction she had headed. I searched the stores to my left

as I walked along the sidewalk, hoping to find her in one of

them. I wasn't sure yet what to say to her when I did find her,

but I knew for sure I didn't want to miss an opportunity to meet


I was so caught up in my search for her that it came as a total

surprise when I walked full speed into the brick divider that had

somehow materialized in front of me. The impact knocked the bag

of books from my hand and I stepped back in surprise, staring at

the waist high divider as if I could hardly believe it was really


I glanced around quickly, hoping that no one had seen my awkward

accident. To my chagrin, not only had someone seen the whole

thing, but it was the girl from the bookstore, standing behind

me, her hand covering her mouth as she supressed her laughter.

"Are you okay?", she asked, trying in vain not to show her


"Yes, I'm alright... I think," I responded, rubbing my right leg

and dusting off my slacks. "They just built that divider this

morning, its never been there before."

"Uh huh, sure they did. And they built all these others just like

it this morning too, didn't they?", she teased, kneeling to pick

up my spilled purchases.

"Yes, its a very new shopping center. In fact none of these

stores were here before today. Isn't it amazing how quickly they

can just throw a shopping center like this together?", I said

with mock seriousness, kneeling along with her to pick up the

books. Her legs were slightly parted, and I tried rather

half-heartedly to avoid staring between them, my friend the

garter belt winking at me again and waving.

"I think you must stay home with your nose in a book too much,"

she said, rising gracefully, "this shopping center has been here

for nearly five years now, and so has this divider."

"Well, I'm sure a nice lady like you wouldn't lie about a thing

like that. I don't suppose there is a restuarant nearby where we

could have lunch together is there?"

"I don't usually have lunch with strangers. But, since your

caretaker is obviously on vacation, I suppose I could stick

around for a while to see if you recover from this attack of

senility you seem to be having. Or did you leave your white cane

and guide dog at home by mistake?"

"Your voice is a bit high, but you still seem like a nice man," I

said, deadpan, taking her elbow as if I were in fact blind. "Lead

the way!"

Lunch was very pleasant. By the time we got to the restaurant we

had stopped our little word game and were busy getting to really

know each other. By the time lunch was over I think we both felt

as if we had known each other for a long time, at least I felt

that way.

Her name was Kerri, and she had a management position with the

marketing department of a hosiery manufacturing company that was

headquartered in the city in which we had met. It turned out that

both of us were divorced, and while we had dated some, neither of

us was really involved with anyone special at the moment. In

fact, we were both rather dreading the coming Christmas holiday,

wishing we had someone to share it with other than family. We

made a date for the following Sunday, planning on spending most

of the day putting up Christmas decorations in the old farm house

I had recently purchased.

The first snowfall of the year arrived Saturday evening just

after dark, and continued throughout the night. By the time I got

up Sunday morning the once productive farm had been turned into a

scene out of a Currier and Ives painting. The white pines to the

left of the old tobacco barn sagged under their burden of

clinging snow, the bottom branches of the nearest one almost

touching the sides of the sled which had at one time brimmed over

with loads of freshly primed tobacco on its way to the barn for

curing. The rusty tin roofs of the outbuildings on the other side

of the winding driveway bore their caps of white proudly, the

buildings themselves magicly transformed from relics of another

time into decorated sentinels guarding the approach to the house.

Slipping on old jeans and wrapping myself in a red and black

mackinaw cruiser, I slid my feet into the rubber bottomed boots

and brought in several armloads of fragrant, freshly-split

hardwood for the fire we would enjoy the rest of the day.

Touching a match to balled up sheets of newspaper, I stood back

and watched absent-mindedly as the flames ignited resinous

slivers of pine, lingering there momentarily before spreading to

small maple branches and larger pieces of oak and ash above them.

Satisfied that the fire had been built properly and would

continue to burn without any assistance, I poured a cup of hot

morning coffee and sat down to call my new friend.

"Mornin'," I said cheerfully into the reciever. "Any snow where

you live?"

"Snow?", she asked sleepily. "I don't see any."

"Well, perhaps not, but you're still in bed, aren't you?"

"Um huh," she breathed, on the verge of drifting back into her

dreams once more.

"Get up sleepyhead! We have things to do today. We've got nearly

eight inches of snow outside, and I'll have to come get you.

You'll never make it out here in that thing you drive."

"Did it really snow?", she asked, finally beginning to awaken a


"Yes, it really snowed. Now get out of bed and get ready. I'll be

there in about an hour. Wear lots of warm clothes, 'cause its

cold outside and my old truck doesn't have much of a heater."

It took much longer to make the drive to Kerri's apartment than I

had thought it would. I had loaded the back of the old Chevy with

firewood, but still had to stop half-way up the driveway to put

on chains. The main road had been scraped once, but that first

trip by the snowplow had only served to make the road more

slippery and I had to drive very slowly, the chains

clink-clanging steadily against the back fenders along the way.

Stopping in the middle of the street in front of her building, I

had just begun to get out of the truck when she came through the

doorway cheerfully, her long legs sheathed in tight denim, a

puffy down coat hiding her shapely torso, woolen scarf casually

cascading from her throat, bright red ear-muffs making her appear

even more youthful than her 29 years. She spun around, her arms

held out widely, dancing in the snow, obviously thrilled by the

gift nature had given us.

With a suddeness that one has to experience to truly understand,

Kerri's dancing feet left the snow covered sidewalk

simultaneously, hanging in mid-air as if waiting for her

insufficiently padded bottom to land before them. It did. She sat

stunned, her legs splayed out before her, the heat generated by

her forceful landing competing with the cold of the snow for the

attention of her abrubtly awakened nerve endings.

Trying very hard not to laugh, and genuinely concerned, I hurried

to her side. "Are you alright?", I asked.

"Yes, I think so," she replied, reaching for her hip and rubbing

it with her gloved hand. Then smiling mischeiviously and

remembering my encounter with the divider at the shopping center

she continued good-naturedly, "This snow wasn't here yesterday.

Come to think of it, neither was this sidewalk or any of these



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