STRANGE MAN ON THE PHONE

Some phrases stick in your mind long after they've outlived all relevance.
Nixon's famous line "I am not a crook" is one of them.
Never mind that he was fudging the truth a little, it was one of the few lines he ever spoke which was not obscenity laced.

"I didn't inhale".

There are other lines that are as memorable. But alas, the modern generation will probably never hear them the same way we did. Modern technology and the internet have erased their currency.
In our memories, though, they still resonate.
Back in the day when the phone would ring and some entirely anonymous cretin breathily husked at the listener.....

"WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?"

That right there was the start of a memorable conversation. One could have a lot of fun with the unknown and unknowable querent, in the age before caller id.

In your best teenage babydoll voice you'd shyly squeak "um, jeans?"

"AND WHAT ELSE?!?"

"A teeshirt... a tight teeshirt? "

"DON'T YOU THINK THAT'S A LITTLE ... WARM?"

"You think I should take it off? I'm all alone...."

"YES! WHAT DO YOU HAVE ON UNDERNEATH?????"

"Mm, a black brassiere. Small. A. "


At this point, you could tell that your interlocutor was getting lively.
A few more questions and answers, and just before he could let loose with a suggestion the likes of which would make the devil blanch, you barked out in your manly baritone "Hi, I'm her dad, why is she writhing on the sofa in a state of scandalous déshabillé, and WHO are you?".

Or perhaps, in the same deep baritone, you'd roar that in fact you were wearing ripped baggy boxers that had seen far better days, and were busily pinching your left ass cheek to keep from laughing.

Whichever. The point is that "what are you wearing" no longer evokes quite the same mood.

Twenty years ago, you might indeed have been wearing a small black brassiere, cup size A, and a matching pair of bikini briefs with lace next to the front panel. It probably looked very lovely against your creamy skin. In the glow of the bedside lamp, the effect was most fetching.
Even if you were, unfortunately, a large gentleman of the dockworker persuasion.


"WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?"

There are times when I hope you are indeed wearing the zesty outfit I have outlined above. Especially if (ONLY if) you are of the gender for whom such garb is "normal". In my imagination, you are younger and shorter than me, discretely curved, and rather sweet.
In the interests of full disclosure I proffer that I am none of the above.
Not of the cute underwear gender.
Not shorter than me.
Not even curvy.
Nor sweet.
At all.

I am a trim middle-aged gentleman, with sparkling deep-set eyes, lively tendencies, and an over-active imagination.
Underneath my loose-fitting plaid shirt and tan slacks I am wearing a white wife-beater and boldly patterned boxers - both clean.
I have trimmed my beard quite recently. It looks more dashing than the rest of me.
No, I am not splayed languorously on a leopard-skin rug by the fire, but sitting at a desk in a nearly empty office-building.
Rather than feeling hot and bothered, I am actually suffering a bit from the cold.
I suspect that the thermostat here is set far too low.

There is a bent briar pipe to the left of the key-board, and I'm seriously thinking of leaving for the Occidental sometime soon, to smoke a bit and stare dreamily off into space.
Sadly, I do not even posses a lovely black bra with A cups, such as I have described.
That's a sore lack, I know, and indicative of a flaw in my character.

Feel free to outline a course of action which will rectify that.

In the meantime, I just might be thinking of you.

And your lacy matching set.


dot dot dot


What are you wearing?



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