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She laid her cape out on the thick carpet of pine needles and stretched languidly upon it. It was warm out of the wind, and a shaft of strong sunlight penetrated the trees. Toward the sea, a triangle of blue revealed where the stream went rushing over the cliff. She could make out a crisp, white sail on the horizon and she envisioned that it was Harry already returning. She dared not think too strongly of the thirteen months before his ship would make port again, nor the storms, nor the distractions of exotic women in the Spice Islands or China, or the South Seas. She blushed as she remembered him telling of the women there who wore little but a skirt made of paper cloth, how they would splash happily in the waters with a hungry child attached to one breast. Soon this would be her fate she mused, unbuttoning the top three buttons of her bodice as she never would do even in her own home. But it was very warm here…The thought of Harry…His remark about the women of the islands had come. True, the combination was more feminine than anything I had worn beforeto the lunches, but I felt it was still on the edge of masculine dress.The pants and jacket could easily pass for some new wave men's wear(except for the reverse button details), the shoes were very similar tosome of my regular dress shoes with just a bit more of a chunky heel,and hose and top would be mostly covered. Even the rear zip pants wouldbe just a mental thing for me, since they were covered by the jacket.Now all I needed was the right luncheon date, every so often we had amore formal event, and of course the courage to be so daring with myfemininity. I was pleasantly surprised when the right opportunity arose within a fewweeks. One of the ladies had been recognized by our town for her charitywork at a local thrift store, so Brenda thought it would be nice to giveher a special luncheon where our group could also validate hersacrifices. We decided to have the lunch prepared by caterers and we'dall dress up.
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