“No, my dear, a modern bra like that just won’t do for a dress like this. The art is in the wrist, the ankle, the elbow, the neck.” I know wel... what she means. My Oma has been teaching me the thrill and skill of the hunt since before that magical movement from girl to woman.I roll my shoulders slightly forward to release the tension on the spaghetti straps and reflexively unsnap my bra, slipping it from my shoulders. I note Oma’s approval as she hands me a fifty-year-old piece of silk. It. I reached her room and as I walked, said, "You dropped your blazer in the entry...shall I leave it out here?" She replied, "Oh, no dear, bring it here and I'll hang it." She was sitting on her bed removing her earrings, necklace, and bracelet with her legs crossed. I became aware of just how attractive she was for her age, and felt the old familiar stirrings in my loins as I watched her. "So...if I may ask, what were you doctoring for?", she asked. My face reddened, and I told her it was. More

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