Thigh High Read Online Free PDF Page B

serving maid’s black-and-white costume. Jeffrey wore the formal suit of a Southern planter, grew his sideburns down his cheeks, and greatly enjoyed the irony of his attire; Jeffrey was black. Those four looked cool and comfortable.
    Lisa and Carol, new to the bank, young and attractive, had both opted for glamorous costumes from the old South. They were now paying for their vanity in misery and discomfort.
    â€œHey, Carol, how’s it going?” Nessa asked the most pitiful-looking teller, a slender Cajun with large, doe-brown eyes, a glorious fall of glossy brown hair, and a low-cut, lacy gown with a massive antebellum hoop skirt.
    â€œScarlett O’Hara my ass. This corset is killing me.” Carol grabbed her waist and tugged. “No air-conditioning, all these petticoats—how could those poor women stand these things?”
    â€œThat’s why they fainted so much,” Julia said.
    â€œAnd had the vapors.” Carol watched Julia with envious eyes.
    â€œYou’d have the vapors, too, if your waist was cinched so tight you couldn’t pass gas.” Donna, old enough to be everyone’s grandmother and frank to a fault, grinned at Carol’s expression of horror.
    â€œMakes you long for the good old days, doesn’t it?” Mary checked her supply of hand disinfectant.
    â€œNot me,” Jeffrey said.
    â€œMe, neither.” Dainty, tanned Lisa shook her head, and the lacy widow’s cap perched atop her curls slid sideways.
    â€œHere, honey, let me.” While Lisa squirmed, Donna briskly took the pins out of her hair, rearranged the cap, and stuck it back on.
    â€œWhat about you, Nessa?” Lisa asked. “You’re not dressed up at all.”
    â€œHere.” Eric hustled over with a couple of strings of beads. “Better get them on before the Stephabeast sees you. You know how she is.”
    The others concealed grins at the nickname and waited for Nessa to reprimand Eric. With her stiff-necked demands and her grim surveillance, Stephanie had earned their enmity.
    Instead Nessa cranked her neck toward the open door of Stephanie’s corner office. “She’s here already?” Stephanie usually didn’t arrive until a minute before the bank opened. Or a minute after.
    â€œOh, she’s here.” Eric did the Frankenstein walk. “With a stick up her behind. But that means good news for you, right, Miss Dahl?”
    Nessa supposed Stephanie’s secretary had spread the news about Nessa’s new office. She showed everyone her crossed fingers.
    â€œWe hope you get that promotion this time, Miss Dahl,” Julia said.
    The others nodded.
    â€œI know not to get my hopes up.” Yet Nessa invariably got her hopes up. She couldn’t help it. She was the kind of optimist who not only saw the glass half-full, but knew it was lead crystal.
    With a glance at the clock, Nessa moved behind the counter and paced the line of tellers. “It’s one minute to nine. Do you need anything? Are you ready?”
    â€œWe’re ready.” Mary squared her shoulders.
    â€œAnother day in paradise,” Donna said.
    â€œAll we have to do is get through today, and we have the party at the Dahl House tonight.” Jeffrey smiled.
    Nessa glanced toward the door and saw the tall, narrow figure of a man dressed in a rumpled black suit. His gaze darted from one teller to the other, the tip of his long nose fogging the glass. “Mr. Miller’s waiting for us to open.”
    The tellers groaned.
    â€œAfter that, the day can’t get worse,” Mary said cheerfully.
    â€œYou’re just saying that because he won’t come to you,” Carol said.
    â€œNope, he sure won’t. He’s one of those guys who loves to fall into that trap of yours.” Mary nodded at Carol’s cleavage.
    â€œIt’s nine.” Nessa signaled Eric. “Open the doors.”
    Eric did as he was told.
    As always, the line