."When he faltered I waited a few moments before encouraging him to go on."And" he said with great reluctance, "you had to dress right." Dress right?"...I repeated in a puzzled tone."Mum, please don't do this." Bob pleaded with me again."Bob, just tell me what the hell this 'dress right' means." I replied more firmly than I'd intended."No trousers, slacks, jeans or shorts." he said softly staring down at the floor, "Dresses or blouse and skirt are okay. Stockings, no tights; knee-highs or socks. Thrown into a high state of anxiety he felt like leaving the room. But Babette materialized in his arms and lavished him with an open-mouthed kiss and pulled his hips while pushing herself into his middle. Glancing over Babette’s shoulder at Maryanne he saw that she was kissing her father. Her right shoulder was dipped, in a way that looked like she might be fondling his dick. Returning his gaze, Maryanne winked and did a tiny “bye-bye” wave with the fingers of her other hand. Shit, he thought. More

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