“What are your measurements ” – it slipped out like a belch after a gassy meal. I didn’t know I’d done it until I’d done it – if you see what I mean.
Silence.
Annie Ivil, who was flitting about the room stopped – looked at me, and looked at Bette”¦ Who looked at Annie, and then looked at me.
Like magic her whole appearance changed. The face, which, as I said before, looked ugly, suddenly remodelled itself. Muscles began to work; her eyes opened wide, and her lips spread, and she crossed her legs, and lounged back, hands behind her head.
“WHAT”¦ MY BOY? WHAT?”
“Uhmmm, your measurements. What are your measurements?”
“I’m embarrassed,” said Annie Ivil. “I’m not going to look.”
Bette was curling, and snaking into another pose. Now SHE was not embarrassed. I WAS. SHE knew that.
