You will never wear pantyhose again. I like stockings but they are to be thigh-highs like Trudy is wearing or stockings with garters.” I did as I ...as told, now standing before them in bra and panties. Mine were not sexy lace like Trudy’s and I could sense another comment from him. He shook his head. “Take off your bra and panties.” I did, leaving me naked. He smiled. “You are beautiful, Tina. I love your body.” I blushed, again.He offered me the chair, again. I sat, discretely. Overnight.I was thinking back to that funeral, remembering Bear’s comment about the Italian women in mourning. “Like crows on a wire.” Of course my mind was gadding about, trying not to think of Hank.I’ve never been sure who funerals are for. Who benefits? Is there such a thing as closure? Does shared grieving ... oh, fuck it. We’re here.I’m not sure why I was crying. I didn’t even know Hank that well. But ... mournful bagpipes, a folded flag, black ribbons across badges. Must have been those. More

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