My little musician had got me to try on some better quality slacks and blouses that were really blouses and not men's shirts. I admit it, they felt ni...e and damn it I look rather good in them. No skirts, although she batted her eyelashes at me and spoke dreamily about how my legs would look. If I want to show my legs I'll wear shorts. Or jeans maybe, I had bought a couple pairs of them, yes, from the Ladies' Department, not the Men's. I am a woman after all and my curves are different. I. There were three of us; me, Don, and Bob. I lived about twenty-five miles out in the country and had a car. Bob lived in the city’s West End, the “baddest part of town”, as a Jim Croce song phrased it. Don lived in a small town about fifteen miles north of the city. We’d all met via CB radios and had become fast friends. Once we’d thought of calling ourselves “The Three Musketeers”, but none of us liked that worn-out reference so it died as quickly as it came up.Don was big, 6’ 3” with a. More

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