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Bless you my child

Posted: Tue Jan 27, 2015 2:16 am
by JaneS
By the time I was in my early teens I’d become very familiar with ‘under-dressing’. This was also the era of the Billy Graham Christian crusades and like many of my age group I was caught up in the hysteria. With a friend who was very devout I attended a crusade meeting and pledged my life to God.

One Saturday morning, not long afterwards, I was home alone and indulging my secret pleasure, prancing about the house ordering about imaginary servants. As I recall I was wearing a bra, suspenders, stockings and a nylon slip whilst walking around the house. Suddenly, through the curtains I saw a car pulling onto our driveway. It was the local minister, coming to discuss my pledge to God and to chart my way forward in the church.

After a fleeting moment of panic I realised I was never going to be able to undress and then redress quickly enough so, as I heard the minister begin knocking on the front door, I rushed quickly to the bathroom, slipped off the stockings, wet my hair and then put on a bath robe. Bare-footed and with wet hair I answered the door, claiming that I’d just got out of the shower. For the next 45 minutes or so I only half listened as I sat facing the man who supposedly held my eternal salvation (or damnation) in his hands. To this day I will never know if he at any stage caught a glimpse of either the bra or slip perhaps riding above the bath robe, or noticed the fact that neither my legs nor feet were wet. Nothing was ever said and I am sure he'd have spoken to my parents if he'd suspected anything amiss.

Perhaps I’ll only find out when I pass on.