Clay handed me a present, all wrapped in gold stickum with an electronic butterfly bouncing airily around on it.
I peeled the paper off carefully, to save it for Billy, and set the butterfly on the sticky side.
Inside the box was a gorgeous blue fluffy affair of no apparent utility.
"Oh, Clay!" I gasped. "I can't wear anything like this!" I slipped out of my paper clothes and the gown slithered around me.
Hastily, I pulled the pins out of my hair, brushed it back and smeared on some lipstick.
"I look silly," I said. "I'm all the wrong type." My little crayola note was still stuck in the mirror. Phooey to me. "You're laughing at me."
"I'm not. You don't really look respectable at all, Verne."
I ran into the dining area. "Regina told you about the boudoir slip!"
I heard Clay stumble over a chair in the dark.
"Obscenity!" he said. "All right, she did. So what? I think you look like a call girl."