Ingrid was a broad shouldered, broad hipped raw boned woman. Her substantial bosom was overshadowed by her huskiness. Her thick thighs and prominent b...ttocks were what first drew a man's attention. With her pixieish face, sparkling blue eyes and short blond hair cut like a boys', she looked younger than she was. Younger and innocent. She stood just 5'6" and always wore three inch pumps. She gave the impression of a much larger woman. Her German Lutheran forebears had settled in the northern. "What are you wearing?" she asked, a smile in her voice."What am I wearing? --Is this an obscene phone call?" Could be," she said. "You want to know what I'm wearing?" I know you're going to tell me," I said."I'm wearing a blue polka-dot dress with a white collar," she said. "And white shoes, with ankle straps." Oh. OK." I had expected her to tell me she was wearing Chanel Number 5, or perhaps some other, updated variation on the old Marilyn Monroe tease-line."But -- you're not wearing any. More

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