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Gently. Delicately. I could get used to being treated thisway. I straightened my shoulders, readjusted my balance on my highheels, and reminded myself to sway as I walked. Stan and I walked intothe restaurant. The doorman looked me over from head to toe, his eyeslingering on my bustline before concentrating on my legs. When we got toour table, the maitre d' helped me into my chair. Doors opened for me,chairs held out for me, being openly admired physically. I was gettingtingly with the discovery of all these little details that are familiarto women, but never experienced by men. Real men, anyway. I didn'tthink I quite counted as one of those anymore.The dinner was lovely, but I barely noticed the food. I was overwhelmedto everyone around us, Stan and I were obviously a couple. Anyone wouldnaturally assume that we were involved romantically. In the crudestterms, all these people would look at us and assume that Stan and I werehaving sex with each other, or if not, that. “Mow about a Saturday evening with a guardsman posted closer?” from yet another.So much joking around, these gals.Everybody got thirteen this time?” from our dealer.At the five-and-dime where I’d gone to buy clothespins, a new guardsman in front of me --just out of Fort May, by his haircut -- stepped back, his arm into me. I stepped back myself, but felt sorry for him when I saw his embarrassment.“Sorry, ma’am,” averting my eyes.It was just an accident, but it made me think about the boys who bumped me in junior high. It happened to all of us and they were jerks, but actually, we sort of liked it.Next time, cards at Jane’s. I liked her spoon collection -- one from nearly every state. “Trades most of them. I’ve hardly been anywhere.”I said I’d write my friends in Charleston if they wanted an Oregon.“Jane and I are doing watch this Saturday,” Eustice told me, helping our hostess with the coffee. Back in Charleston, we never drank coffee while we played. Out here, everybody just lays.
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