It fell sweetly to just past the middle of her thighs; it had a hint of elastic woven into the bodice which emphasized what little bust-line she had; ...here were sleeves, but just barely. And it was, of course, red… the bright, vibrant red of a fresh poppy blossom, with a tiny bit of black embroidery here and there. She slipped it over her head and stood before the mirror as she zipped herself up. She smiled at herself and felt very nearly pretty, even with her glasses on. She brushed her hair. She was a stay-at-home mother but made a point of always being properly done up: sometimes slacks (quite controversial at the time) and a stylish top; sometimes a dress, or blouse and skirt - often worn with hosiery and heels. I too was expected to follow the dress code. Housecoats and pajamas were forbidden during visiting hours because "One never knows who might suddenly appear at the door."Which reminds me of an argument we had during my rebellious period. As a lazy teenager, sometimes all I. More

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