No, not important, not now. I turned, admiring the dark line running up the back of each stocking. No wonder girls in WWII had painted those lines on when silk ran short. They just ACCENTUATED the legs so well, and drew the eye along the curves, up to where they should be looking.A corset next, so tight... my waist had that girlish slimness I so loved. The forms tucked invisibly into the cups of my favorite brassiere, and with practiced ease I slipped it on and hooked the straps.The dress followed swiftly. An evening dress, skirt to the knee, no cleavage showing but still emphasizing my bosom. Light lace trim, frilly and playful. High-heeled, strappy shoes.A bit of makeup, expertly applied. A touch of blush, shadow. Mascara? Tonight, yes. And now red lips puckered at me in the mirror, blowing a kiss. Delicious lips. I could see them pressed against a hairy cheek, nuzzling a neck with an Adam's apple... wrapped around a stiff cock. Oh, yes, they were PERFECT for THAT.The opening rites. Karl rented a house until his place was done--a twenty-by-thirty foot earth-sheltered cabin made out of concrete, stone and logs--then furnished it, stocked it and moved in, to lock the world away. He sometimes missed his cows. He never missed the damned chickens. Maybe next year, a dog. Something to pet and hold. Something to love him back.Karl dressed for outside again, and tucked two instant heaters into his shirt pockets, then donned canvas over-mitts with heater packs in them before shouldering aside the heavy outer- door again. Closing it behind him, he took the scraper in hand and cleared the door lower sash to keep the freezing water vapor from trapping him inside, locked in by his own breath.He heard a plane. The cold and deafening silence made sounds travel enormous distances, but this sounded odd- laboring. Peering around, sheltering his eyes with a mittened hand, he saw a twin-engine plane twisting, drifting, dropping lower and lower. Then--it crashed. It wasn't far,.
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