It's quite odd at times, watching the latest generation matching up. My daughter and her friends are all around the twenty mark, give or take a year or two, and starting to look around on a serious basis for a likely mate. My attitude with some of the pairings was of the order, 'They've got to be kidding. He/she is a total dork. What can he/she possibly see in him/her?'
I saw one highly intelligent young woman seeming quite happy to become engaged to a guy who I thought had the intellectual capabilities of a flea, and a rather dull flea at that. But they seemed happy with each other so who am I to judge?
At the other end are those who get friend-zoned. Kath is one of those. She's a bright vivacious young woman. She likes playing sport, keeps herself in good condition, and is widely popular with both sexes. As a friend. No-one seemed to be looking at her as a potential partner. Even a couple of girls who I strongly suspected to be of the lesbian persuasion only ever seemed to treat Kath as a friend. To men and women alike she was a pal and a friend, apparently not lover material. She did date, but as far as I could tell there was never anything serious about it.
Mind you, I'm not infallible. Only nearly so. I suppose she could have raging hormones and be seducing all the boys, but doing it extremely discretely, but I doubted it. The girl was a bit of a puzzle.
My daughter came up to me the other day, just as she was going out.
"Dad, Kath is coming around to borrow my green witch's costume. She's got to take a bunch of nieces trick or treating tonight and need's a decent costume but doesn't want to buy one for just one occasion. We're the same size so I said she could try it on and borrow it if it looked OK."
With that she flitted, leaving me to consider exactly what did women mean when they say they're the same size? Much as I love my daughter, I'd still give the points to Kath where busts are concerned. Still, not my problem.
I went on doing the things I'd had planned and halfway through the afternoon Kath knocked and I let her in.
"The costume is lying on Dianne's bed," I told her, and she smiled, thanked me, and headed off to Dianne's room to try it out.
She came out about ten minutes later, looking for me and just a trifle embarrassed.
"Um, could you give me a hand, please, Mr B.?" she asked. She was clutching the top of the costume to her and half turning away so I could see she wasn't quite zipped up. "I can't quite do the zip up by myself. If you would. . .?"
I had no problem with that and pulled the zip up the last couple of inches.
Satisfied she shot back to the bedroom to check herself out in the mirror, only to return a few minutes later.
"Um, what do you think?" she asked, pirouetting around to give me a good look.
As a father I'd have had a few pointed words with my daughter about the amount of bosom showing. That little bit extra in the bust line made an enormous difference. If she went out asking for trick or treats I knew precisely the sort of tricks and treats she'd be offered.
As a disinterested observer – well, that wasn't me. She looked hot.
"Can you breathe properly with that top? It looks a little tight," I observed.
She hastened to assure me that she could and she was lying in her teeth. It was too tight, I could see that, and she must have known it. I looked a little closer.
"Kath, that costume has a built-in bra. You shouldn't really be wearing another one with it. You'll find it too constricting after a short while."
Stepping up behind her I pulled the zip down a few inches.
"Go and try it without the bra. You'll probably find it fits better."
She went to do as advised, blushing as she left. It didn't take her long to return, sans bra, needing the zip done up that last few inches. I obliged and turned her around to face me.
"Very nice," I said, speaking quite honestly. "The green suits you and you're no longer showing quite so much cleavage. Much better."
She smiled, doing another pirouette, moving more freely I noted. She'd do very nicely with that costume.
Ever gone ahead and done something that you know you shouldn't? I mean, you know damn well that you should not do that thing but go ahead and do it anyway. Kath turned her back to me so that I could start off the zipper for her. At least I knew my manners.
"Kath," I said quietly, "let me apologise in advance."
She was turning to look at me, wanting to know what I was talking about, when I ran the zipper down its full length. I don't think I mentioned that the costume was strapless. A real sexy wicked witch of the West sort of costume. It was held up by fitting very firmly around the bust. With the zipper undone it was no longer held up and promptly slithered floor-ward and Kath was standing there in a small pair of panties.
Kath naturally made a grab for it but was way too late, mainly because I caught her hands and prevented her.
"What'd you do that for?" she demanded. "And let go of my hands."
"I did it because I wanted to see you. Why else? Now hush up for a moment. I haven't finished."
I let go her hands, mainly because I needed to use mine to lower those panties I'd mentioned. Kath made the mistake of raising her hands to cover her breasts which meant I had easy access, sliding her panties down while she was still catching on to what I was doing.
"Mr B." she squealed, sounding shocked and mortally offended. She had a nice blush going as well.
Her hands were waving vaguely around, not knowing what area to cover first. I caught them quite easily, pushing them behind her back and holding them together.
