After our first dance, J.W. and I began to spend each afternoon together. You see, I was a twirler. I would practice in the afternoons outside of the buildings where he studied, and at times it seemed that we sat and talked more than I practiced. It wasn't long before we were together more than not. Once he finally decided to take me to his parents' home, I had the chance to get to know everyone.
On game night, I would bring my stuff with me and dress at his parents' home. This was far more reasonable than driving the 30miles to my parents' home and back again. But this is all background mumbo jumbo. Let me tell you about my dress, or uniform.
It was a short little white number with kelly green accents. Twirlers don't often wear much in the way of skirts, for they would become a tangled mess. And more often than not, they fit tightly for the same reason. After all, if you get a baton tangled in your clothes, you risk a bad show and knocking yourself silly.
After one game, in the cool fall, we decided to stop for a soda at the local Taylor's. Being the gentleman he was, and that my outfit didn't offer much protection from the weather; J.W. lent me his jacket (which was longer than my skirt). Well being the small town that it is, we met his brother and sister-in-law on their way out. Well, his brother anyway (the sister-in-law had stayed in the pick-up).
After he went on out, he returned a moment later for one last question. You see, she (being his sister-in-law) had noticed that not much more than my hose and shoes showed below the hem of the jacket I was borrowing. And she wanted to know..........
"Is she wearing any clothes?"
