GOGO, MINI SHOWERS

One of my favorite apes, Dr. Zaius, mentioned that he is intrigued by stories about women showering, and if the story involves mini-skirts and go-go boots, that would be even better. Well, Dr. Z, this is your lucky day. I just happen to have such a story, just for you.

>One New Year's Eve, about umpty years ago, I was invited to a costume party. I decided to go, dressed as Nancy Sinatra. Since I never throw anything away, I knew I still had some of my 70's clothing tucked away. After a trip to the attic which led to a walk down Memory Lane, I managed to find my old, white go-go boots (still quite shiny!) and a couple of mini-skirts (still very short). I chose the red one, and then managed to come up with a tight (tighter than it used to be...) red and white striped blouse. I was plotzing! I squeezed into the skirt and blouse, pulled on those cool boots, unfurled my red mane, applied a lot of mascara and lipstick and was ready to rock and roll! Notice that I did not mention squeezing into any underwear. Now it's hard to imagine how I could have forgotten such an important garment, especially since I was wearing a goddamned MINI-SKIRT, but I did.

>So...I got to the party, the host, Jerry (masquerading as Tom Jones), greeted me with a "Hi Nancy!" Then, "Hey everybody, Nancy Sinatra is here!" All the cats, clowns, cowboys and one large condom came to check me out. There was a chorus of "Hey Nancy, are those boots made for walking?"

>"No way," sez I. "These boots are made for rocking!" In no time, the music (good ol' rock 'n' roll, of course) was turned up loud and Tom Jones and I led the crowd onto the dance floor. I was feeling like a "wild and crazy" gal and was giving those boots a real workout. Then, all of a sudden, one of the buckles on the left boot came loose. I BENT OVER to fix it. The music stopped, there was a hush, then gasps, then laughter. I stood up quickly. "What? What's wrong?"

>My friend Sally stopped laughing long enough to say, "Nancy, I believe you have a wardrobe malfunction." She pointed to my hips.

>I reached down and felt my naked rear. "OH MY GOD!" Tears sprang to my eyes, making my mascara run, everyone was laughing, Sally came over to me and pushed a drink into my hand, I chugged it down, asked for another, the music started up again and I felt much better. We all started dancing again. Someone shouted, "Red Rover, Red Rover, why don't you bend over!" I said, "Give me another drink, and maybe I will!" Another drink, another dance, and then I heard myself say, "These boots are made for walking and this SKIRT IS MADE FOR HIKING!" And I hiked it up, just a bit. Oh my, the hoots and hollers.

Then it was midnight and the champagne came out. Corks were popping, wine was squirting, and spirits were soaring. It was hot and humid in the room, and I was sweating like a racehorse. "You need a shower," Tom Jones declared, and grabbed a bottle of champagne. He shook it up, pulled out the cork and aimed the mouth of the bottle at me. A spray of tiny bubbles, cool, wet and delicious, engulfed me. I shrieked, then laughed, then licked my lips and grabbed the bottle from him. I drank a few swigs and poured the last few drops down the front of my blouse. The cold liquid made my nipples stand out like a couple of marbles. I rubbed my breasts and gyrated to the music. I felt Tom close behind me, his Dick was hard, and he wrapped his Hairy arms around me. Several other merrymakers decided they needed showers too, and before long we had all popped our corks.

Sigh. Good times.