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Greetings there Folks.

As follows is a story about a cohort that some of you may find at least entertaining. Originally this was posted at Stockings HQ in July of 2003 and as such is not very “kinky” so to say given the nature of SHQ. And it has much more to do with classic traditional stockings so may be boring to those lacking an interest. Not to say we were not into kink- once from a Drive In Movie (anyone remember those?) she'd locked my clothes in the car trunk and made me drive home wearing only a Trojan which covered my cock and balls whilst she was wearing bra, panties, garterbelt and Hane's (the bra was a classic Playtex) and it gets better- in the wee hours of the morning a cop stopped us because he saw a fellow driving without a shirt (it was early November in Michigan, not exactly no shirt weather). After some tense moments he asked how far we had to go and said have a safe trip home. Oh those were the days. Anyway...


Then there was Sue.

The following is generally true, as there is no need to obfuscate much in the tale, for reasons that shall make themselves apparent.

There is a bit of darkness here; Sue won't mind the telling, she became incorporeal not long after her 26th birthday from a brain tumor that spread from her lungs. She was a heavy smoker. This is one of the reasons I moved out after a couple of years together and was a major impediment to some relationships with potential. Smooching with someone who smokes tobacco is a truly disgusting experience.

We were friends until the inevitable conclusion. We even discussed matrimony should by some chance she have overcome the inevitable, even though we both knew there was only one conclusion. Even more ironic since she'd quit smoking by then. I know guys aren't supposed to cry and long ago I thought I'd become "used" to the concept of death. I'd certainly seen it enough. I think I may have suffered dehydration via the tear ducts and I supported the liquor industry for about a week after her expiration date until reality sobered me to the realization: no work, no pay check, no booze. Yes, I was affected much more than I thought possible.

We met through two fellows that I was in a band with at the time in late fall of 1974ish. They were students at Eastern Michigan University in Ypsilanti just down the street from Ann Arbor. Sue was in a nursing program and was chummy with everyone else in the band. It was not fireworks at our first meeting. Despite my bluster with wordage I'm rather a shy sort that takes awhile to become comfortable and familiar. Despite much time in front of crowds doing stand up comedy, music and dealing with the public, I still suffer stage fright. Such was our case. She had a Scorpio rising (astrologically speaking) and people with such a configuration are generally very sexually oriented and require someone of a similar nature. We found common ground there. Again, that took a bit with one thing leading to another, eventually resulting in our taking up residence together.

When we first met, she was living in a dorm and I wondered two things: how could anyone study with the chaos that was existent (she got good grades) and how did one sleep? The first time I stayed over, she impressed me by wearing a dress which was in a light colored multi paisley pattern, short sleeved, mid thigh length, neckline just right, (not too low, not too high) and it clung in all the right places. The material was a light shimmery spun something, silky to the touch with a zipper up the back and remains one of my favorite dresses, if now only in memory. There is not much privacy in a dorm room and I was treated to a strip tease in reverse when she put on this delight. Now pantyhose were firmly established for years by this time but the earth shoes, well, they didn't make it at all. Hey, she was a student with little cash and not a whole lot of fashion sense. This sense of fashion is a very mid-western thing in the USA. But she did look damn good in that dress…

Sue was a big gal. By that, let me explain her heritage. She had Irish and Italian parents with a temper and hair to match. Her hair was typical dark red Italian and she sported freckles typical of the Irish. Her father looked a lot like Tony Blake, the fellow that used to be on a cop tele show in the USA by the name of Barettta, and he had just huge arms. He was a Major in the US Army. I never met the man; he expired long before I came on the scene also from lung cancer. Mom was equally a large woman though I imagine in her younger years she was rather svelte and statuesque. This ethnic mix lead to a lassie about 5'9" at 130 lbs. And with a big boned frame. Big boned people can be deceiving. I played in a band with a Greek fellow that looked like a Greek God, tall, very handsome and by all appearance quite muscular. He was a weakling. Folks with this physique simply have no place to put body mass so in his case, any muscle took to look bulging. In Sue's case, she looked to be much more endowed than she was. Certainly not centerfold material she could none the less look smashing, as I shall illustrate. She looked ravishing in a pair of hip hugger panties. I need to add that big boned does not necessarily mean full figured. Sue was member on the gymnastics team at EMU and as such was not lacking in agility.

Lest anyone take this as sexist, by comparison, I never expect to grace the pages of GQ or Playgirl. By the way, is Playgirl still around? I've always wondered about the placement of those staples on the centerfolds… On a furtherside note, very few people meet the standards for "perfection", what ever that is (and it is forever changing) and I've found that there is someone for everyone. You may look like Twiggy or Roseanne but there is someone out there looking for you that appreciates and is attracted to your type. I'm a little New York in that regard; I don't usually care how old you are but whether you are intact. I like what I like. Let me tell you about Kim. Compared to Sue, she was a stick, very fine bonded and thin. She ran the PA in the band, we've had numerous affairs together over the years, we are still friends, she's married with twins and she is the only woman to have proposed marriage to me. She also has filled out quite nicely over the years and is just as appealing to my eye as she ever was. I'm versatile in my tastes. Anyway, this is how someone like me could find a tall, big boned girl with long hair, considerable cerebral activity and very attractive smile indeed most attractive.

There's more. Once, when the power and petrol went off, along with the phone (OK, we didn't pay the bills…) we scarffed up change from a number of sources; under the carpet, between cushions, you know, the usual haunts one finds loose change and with our accumulated total of $1.56 (US) we bought a six pack of beer (yes, it was that long ago) and drank it by candle light. Yes, Sue was my kind of woman.

As a Christmas present I got her a garter belt and a pair of Hanes. This was her introduction, at least first hand to the world of finer hosiery. Remember, Sue was a big girl and even Hanes in size 12 with the green band were just adequate in length if she was wearing anything even moderately short. I should care to point out a couple of things here. Sue knew what stockings were as she had a grandmother that apparently wore them with regularity and she probably had seen her mother do the same in her youth though she was definitely part of the pantyhose culture as that was the era she came of age. She had never worn a pair of nylon stockings in her life. Likewise, I knew what they were, there was no lack of appreciation or desire to see them on my part and I had very little idea of the practical aspects beyond that. The garter belt was a cheap one size stretchy thing from a porno store in my old neighborhood. The stockings came from a rather ritzy upscale store in the suburbs of Detroit, a place I most felt out of place in. The upside about this part was I encountered a saleslady about my own age at the time who was incredibly helpful and not at all bashful. She was nothing short of splendid, being patient with some long haired awkward guy that was obviously a little ill at ease. She asked all the right questions and it never occurred to me that she may have thought that these were intended for me. To this day, I don't think she did. She was most pleasing to the eye in many respects I might add. That had a bit to do with my nervous demeanor.

I had reservations as to how these might be accepted. Sue took to these like a duck to water. I was shocked, excited, surprised, elated, hooked, all of that and more. I remember the day vividly. The shade was off black (Hane's listed the color as Barely Black) and they sported reinforced heel and toes. Up until this time I felt that the reinforced heel was a stupid feature. Sling back shoes, the ones that have a strap around the back of the heel were all the rage back in the mid 60's and early 70's and the reinforced heel design was easily seen with that style and I always thought it ruined the look of a well turned foot, as viewed from the back side. Reinforced toe styles had been available since the early 60's and perhaps earlier. Oh how was I to know that this peculiarity would become such an attractant much later on in life? As the Hanes were coupled with a one size fits all garter belt there was no allowance for adjustment. Nor were adjustments on the straps. The Hanes fit but were hardly tight and I will admit the belt was pretty low on the quality scale. Sue did keep this piece, oddly perhaps, and her mom found it with her things after she died. I've no idea what went through her mother's mind with the discovery of that and more related items she had in her drawer. However, back to the Christmas present. Over the garter belt she slipped on a pair of light blue nylon hipsters that were embellished with a wispy fancy lace trim on the sides. The waistband of the panties covered the garter belt and the combination looked exceptional. I have always preferred this arrangement in regards to underwear, garter belts and stockings; practical and visual candy. This eye catching presentation led to a predictable situation and we spent more then a nice Christmas morning and part of the afternoon enjoying the attire.

She further surprised me by wearing this under a dress when we saw her mother at her house later in the day. This had a pelvic buzz effect on the both of us and we continued where we left off earlier when we repaired to home. A most memorable Christmas. Oh how I longed for a Polaroid camera then.

As time went on we experimented with different sizes and styles and by this time had acquired a garter belt that did fit. One in particular was a black piece that might be considered "old ladyish" by today's standards though it fit Sue most fittingly. Four adjustable straps in just the right size, man, we were living. This item did raise some eyebrows, as I am sure the sales staff thought it was destined for me. I laugh at the thought now though then was another story. With a limited budget, we found that Christian Dior had nylons with a short welt that were acceptable even with the shortest of skirts. I should mention that Sue did have, so to speak, an upper limit with regards to hemline. With limited resources I procured varied articles for her to wear to include lingerie, dresses, skirts and tops. Stockings were becoming most difficult to find in any color or size. There was much frustration involved with this process. This was light years before cyber on line anything and required a lot of driving and face to face contact at a retail store. Even the specialty shops, of which there were a few, had trouble finding stockings to sell. One thing we did discover; I've always been a fan the "gathered" look where one places the garter toward the middle or lower on the welt or even folds it over first. Sue made mention that her grandmother did this, further evidence that she had exposure to stockings if only in a vicarious manner. Sue adopted this style and partly as a matter of practicality; with what we had available, it was one of the only ways to get the stockings to fit high enough to wear with something short and tight as to not sag or bag. I enjoyed the visuals immensely.

Wearing stockings had another practical side in this story. Sue was a waitress at a well-known national chain of eateries and the uniform was simple: white blouse and an A-line skirt. The skirt was about 3-4 inches above the knee and she looked great in it. She found that if she flashed a bit of welt she could increase her tips. As proof, at this point it was a well-known fact that blacks were notoriously skimpy with tips. This is not a racist statement. There was much written about this in trade publications catering to the food business and also verified by the staff and a circle of friends that we knew, which did include minorities. Almost all had some connection to the food business. Sue came from a racist geography and was quite prejudiced herself. I should make light that Michigan outside of the urban areas is quite a segregated state and there are few minorities in the outlying areas. There is little difference the further north one goes, Native Americans Indians are treated with the same disdain. Michigan is a great place but is not a bastion of open mindedness when it comes to tolerance. Sue was aware that this attitude did not sit well with me. This attitude changed appreciably one night when we got into a swing with a black pard we both knew and partied with, which went a long way to dispelling her racial tension as well as debunking some myths about how well blacks were supposed to be hung… She even wore stockings that night.

Anyway, she got tips. This caused anger and envy among some on the staff. She was noted in reviews as being a good waitress. About this time a number of things happened. At work, new uniforms were introduced, a baggy one piece smock affair and not very flattering. And it reflected the more conservative attire of the times. Short dresses and mini skirts were becoming as rare as finding stockings and this uniform was a result of that fashion trend. It was universally hailed as a piece of crap by all that wore it and by the majority of men who saw it. For one thing, it was far too long. Real garf. The trick was to wash it in hot water and dry at high heat to cause shrinkage…and to shorten it. That caused trouble with management. Management also entered in a pantyhose deal with Leggs where they bought a huge amount in bulk at discount and sold them to staff at cost. Two parts did not work here; the shade was in typical beige and it was not conducive to flashing. Sue's preferred shade was off black which had two effects. This made her look taller and slimmer and also damn sexy. There were a certain number of patrons that would frequent the restaurant if only to buy coffee. Just for the sights.

There were times that I'd pick her up from work and we wouldn't make it home straight away. That's how good she could look. Management had issue as she continued to wear her style and shade of hosiery. The short version here; a dismissal and student lawyers filing unfair labor and discrimination lawsuits. You could say that Sue was comfortable with stockings by this time. Once she cavorted around in an above the knee fur coat (her grandmothers) wearing the aforementioned garter belt and stockings, a pair of old fashioned full brief panties over the garter belt, a bra, a pair of high black boots and that was it. This was the middle of winter with a considerable amount of snow about and here we are in the middle of the day, walking about with Sue occasionally flashing passing cars. OK, we'd been to a watering hole earlier. We were in the with the barman so drinks were like, free. We imbibed liberally. She had a streak of exhibitionism that was just below the surface and this would come to that surface especially under the influence of alcohol and/or other psychoactive substances. She did not mind too much if people saw her from the street in the house where we lived. There was a big picture window to our bedroom facing the street. Cheap thrills.

I should allude to the fact that we had no formal agreement and no stated commitment to each other. In other words, we slept around a bit. This was long before AIDS or even herpes, when little couldn't be contained by a shot from the doc. Or so everyone thought. Further, I was a bit of a rake or so I would have liked to have considered myself and I was without a doubt, a chauvinist. One of the reasons I was always broke was, to put it bluntly, I was lazy and without much ambition at least concerning a desire to find a job. I had this idea that the band was actually going to go somewhere. I had that idea with a lot of bands I was in. I was young and dumb in that era. Things have changed; I'm a lot less young now. Oh reality… Things did indeed change but not in the time frame of this affair.

A group of us contracted to see Genesis in concert, their Trick Of The Tail release. This is when Genesis was at their prime, far before they went commercial and started playing elevator musak. They were at one time my favorite group and still hold a high place with me. Our band at the time attempted to emulate a similar style and Genesis had a major influence on our sound. We appreciated sophisticated complex intelligent music. Too bad this type of music was great with the critics and would never pay the rent. Genesis was without Peter Gabriel by this time and they had a lot to prove. The group was always known as a proficient set of musicians in the finest of technical manners and there was no disappointment in this outing; the live show was nothing short of excellent. We went in a large group to the show, members of the band and friends, occupying two rows somewhat in an opposing corner. Sue and I were having a bit of a row at the time and we were not sitting together. I had a seat that afforded me a superior view of her. She chose to wear that dress that I'd seen when I first stayed over at the dorm and curiously she had donned a pair of plain flat knits in a suntan shade. A bit odd as this was probably late November or December and cold in Detroit. All the more odd that we hadn't been drinking and this was behavior of a sober exhibitionist. From my vantage point and pretty much anyone else's, the tops of her welts were just visible, barely showing. When she didn't pay attention to this a lot more showed. This was again at a point in time when mini skirts had become as rare as an ice cream cone in the desert. This was cause for more than some attention. I admit I had a hard time, in more ways then one, concentrating on watching the show. Most distracting. I noticed that I was not the only one. It was without reservation a great concert and a most memorable night.

Not long after this, things deteriorated and I moved out. After a cooling off period, we saw each other occasionally and would have a romp or more, often with that old spice we'd had. Summer saw us getting together more. She had a dark blue sort of sundress in an unusually heavy material (at least heavy for a sundress; I don't know what else to have called it) that she would wear with black nylons and it would drive me wild. This was another out of time fashion as it left more than a few inches of exposed knee. We would go to a drive in theatre as there were many that existed then, get stoned and the dress would end up in the back seat. We stayed in the front seat. We had a thing involving bondage and one particularly lusty, warm and kinky night, her wrists secured over her head to the passengers side arm rest (with of course a nylon stocking; I kept one around for emergency fan belt replacement…) there was a security guard that got the thrill of the night, if not the month. We didn't know who was more embarrassed by the light of his flash in our faces; him or us. There was a good laugh about that incident later. Still, I had an ongoing and growing problem with that Kool habit though…

Fast-forward many months. I was spending a lot of time at the University of Michigan Hospital in Ann Arbor. It is a huge sprawling complex. I was well known with the staff and no one said much when I would come at off times or where I parked. Parking then as now was at a premium. At this particular wing they were a little more lenient toward visitors as the patients visited usually were not around very long. This was considered the "last" ward for most. Interns offered spare rooms for us to smoke dope in as it helped with the chemo. The security staff was very accommodating on that about all of this.

One day, it was over. I got a call where I worked, at Hertz Rent A Car at Detroit Metro Airport, as I did not have a phone where I lived. I did not attend the ceremonies; I hate funerals. Still do and will not attend one. Ironic, that as a minister, I am able to conduct them. There is a light in all of this. Remember the lawsuits? Sue's mom collected damages as the lawsuits were started before Sue checked out. A small victory for stocking heads and those of an independent persuasion.

To conclude, I have a memory bank of memories of our time together. I enjoyed having participated in all the weird stuff that we did. I had a ringside seat in watching Sue, a woman who had a minimal understanding of hosiery, the concepts and nuances, to develop an interest in the finest manner of SHQ, decades before the site was conceived. This had an air of intrigue and excitement, the likes I find unlikely I shall ever experience again. There is an irony here, After we split up she really went big on hosiery and lingerie. She even honored me by asking my advice and opinion. And she gave me the "old lady" black garter belt the last time I saw her during a fleeting moment of lucidity. That is how I knew she had a lot of lingerie and stockings in her drawer. She spent her last days at the home she had grown up in and this is where I saw her last. That was a sad drive home for me that day.

Well, that the story and I'm sticking with it. I'll leave off with something that my delving in Magic and meta physics have begun to teach me, something that I think Sue would appreciate:

Most of us come into the World crying, surrounded by people smiling.
Live your life so when you leave the World you are smiling, perhaps surrounded by people who are crying.

Here, in this far away place
Strange, that the palms of my hands
should be wet with

Grieve nor pine not for what happened,
Smile for what was.

I so love your style, @Dworkin ...