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A DAY AT THE BALLPARK

Later that evening, after dinner, Trisha called Amber to tell her the news. After an exchange of hellos, Trisha was excited about what she had just learned, "Guess what Amber...I know who our houseguest is going to be for the Olympics."

"Oh really!  Does she sound like someone cool?"

"Believe it or not, it is going to be someone from that funny sounding Australian former penal colony - Edenglassie."

"Oh Trisha, I'm sorry to hear that.  I had a feeling that would happen."

"Maybe she'll be fun after all.  Her name's Rochelle and she's only 23 years old.  Maybe she'll like to shop and do some fun stuff."

"We'll see..," Amber changed the subject.  "Lets get together with the guys as a foursome sometime soon and do something.  I'll get Doug on the line with my three-way calling and you do the same with Chuck with yours."

This was not the first time that the girls had planned stuff in this way. Fortunately, both Doug and Chuck happened to be home and they got on the line.  After another set of hellos, Trisha retold the retails of Rochelle to the guys.

Chuck replied, "I hope she turns out to be fun to hang out with. You say she's 23? That's pretty young for an employee being sent over from Edens..."

Doug, who was an excellent student of history and geography as well as other subjects, finished his sentence, "Edenglassie. We studied about that place in World History in the ninth grade."

Trisha was very interested, "Tell us more. What do you know besides what Dad told me?"

"Well, they are a independent state that runs their own affairs and they have a prime minister and a small parliament just like Britain and Australia. They do have a friendly relations with neighboring Australia and they have free trade. They are simply a group of people who resisted some of the changes in society in the last 50 years."

Chuck added, "23...that's my brother, Jason's age. You'll have to bring her to youth group so we can all meet her."

Amber added, "Of course, Jason being the Youth Minister would get to meet her too, huh?  Maybe you should wait and see if she's fun and interesting before playing matchmaker."

Doug retorted, "Let's be a little more fair to Rochelle, by her name means "little rock" in French.  We've never met her.  She might be a nice girl and fun to do stuff with."

Amber posed the following question, "Does anybody know of anyone famous who came from Edenglassie? Like a movie star or a musician?"

Chuck added, "Or an athlete?"

Doug chimed in, "Hey Chuck, didn't Sam from the tennis team say one time that Rod Laver was from Edenglassie.  They call him the Stonehampton Slammer."

Chuck replied, "Sounds right, but I had forgotten the name of the country. I had always thought of him as Australian, but I think he did actually live in that other place that Rochelle's from. I know someone else from Edenglassie."

Trisha was surprised and asked, "Oh really, who?"

"My parents were watching this show on Home and Garden TV and they did a tour of actor George Hamilton's house.  They said it was on some island off the coast of Australia, but was actually in another country - it had to be Edenglassie."

Amber commented, "I was hoping someone cool like Nicole Kidman was from there." She then changed the subject again. "Hey! Lets talk about the main point of our call. What do you want to do next weekend."

Chuck, being an avid sports fan piped in, "The Braves are playing the Los Angeles Dodgers on Saturday afternoon the 15th. It's a 1PM game so we could easily make it."

Doug, being an even bigger sports fan and a baseball fanatic quickly gave his vote of confidence.  Amber and Trisha were not as impressed, but thought it would be only fair to let the guys choose what to do occasionally.  The foursome made plans to meet at Trisha's house at 11AM and drive down to Atlanta Fulton County Stadium.

The morning of the 15th came and the four upcoming juniors at Sprayberry arrived at Trisha's house ready to spend the afternoon together.  Chuck and Doug were wearing their Atlanta Braves t-shirts and carrying their foam tomahawks.  They were ready to cheer for what was a very good baseball team in 1996. Amber was similarly dressed with a plain t-shirt, khaki shorts and tennis shoes, but despite the forecast of sunny 90-degree weather she was in full makeup.  Maybe she was hoping to get discovered on cable TV if the camera happened to catch her in the stands.  Trisha chose to wear her navy blue Braves golf shirt, which was a gift from her father who had bought it for her hoping to make her more of a fan.  To match, she wore a pair of white shorts.

Doug and Chuck without thinking, both climbed into the front seat and let the girls crawl into the back of Chuck's Mazda 626.  A more mature Chuck would later learn to sit with their dates, but really Trisha and Amber did not mind the opportunity for girl talk.

"So where are our seats today," Amber opened the conversation on a subject certain to gain a reply from the guys as the car pulled out onto their street on the way to Canton Hwy.

Chuck quickly chimed in, "Lower Level, 3rd base side, about 20 rows off the field."

Trisha added, "I asked Chuck to get us some seats in the sun. I want to work on my tan today on my legs and feet."

Amber looked over and down and took note that Trisha was wearing a cute pair of blue leather strap low-heeled thong sandals and noted, "There's hardly any shoe there to keep you from getting a tan."

Chuck and Doug were quietly amused at how their day at the ballpark had started out like a fashion discussion.  While Chuck turned off onto I-575 south, Doug tried to start a front seat conversation to counter-balance the girls chatter. "Hey, who's pitching today?"

"I saw these back in the spring and finally caught them on sale a couple of weeks ago.  You know, I'm pretty picky about thong sandals.  I like them but the strap between my toes has to be just about perfect for me to like them," Trisha boasted while crossing her right leg over her left in Amber's direction."

Chuck replied, "Steve Avery for the Braves and Hideo Nomo for the Dodgers."

"Let me see one," Amber asked but did not wait for a reply before reaching over and slipping the crossed right one off. It came off with more ease then she expected and she almost hit Chuck in the arm with it as she pulled it off. Trisha uncrossed her leg and placed her bare foot on the carpet of the car and began to slowly rub her bright red nail-polished toes into the soft carpet.

"Nomo! Oh no! He's been unstoppable this season.  Ever since the Dodgers got him to come over from Japan, he's been dominant," Doug noted as Chuck took the exit onto I-75 south.

Amber slowly verbally analyzed Trisha's sandal and made note of the comfortable leather and the cushion sole that made them very comfortable, "...Oh these are nice, maybe I'll get a pair to wear to the pool."

Doug was amused at Amber's long description.  He reached his left hand into the back seat and asked, "Let me see what you girls are talking about."

Trisha did not object, so Amber let Doug borrow the sandal while Chuck focused on maneuvering through the I-75 interchange with I-285 as traffic began to build.

Doug began to mock Amber's description using a feminine voice. "And these sandals are a genuine cowhide leather that will slip on and off with ease."  Doug placed his left hand palm down on the sole and placed the toe strap between his third and fourth fingers and began to simulate walking, stretching the leather straps a little unknowingly. "The strap makes a V-shape over the toes and..." By now Chuck and Trisha were laughing but Amber was not as amused since she realized she was being mocked.  Doug continued his description and then noted, "Wow this shoe is light as a feather. I bet it will float. Hey, we're crossing the Chattahoochee River.  I'll just lower the window and drop it in and..." As Doug lowered the window a couple of inches, Trisha loudly objected and was able to wrestle her shoe back from Doug, who had no intention of really doing anything in the first place. Doug did not say anything else about the shoe but he quietly thought it was very dainty and sexy and wished Amber would wear shoes like that more often.

Chuck and Doug resumed their earlier conversation.  "Chuck, Do you think Chipper will be able to handle Nomo's fastball?'

"Yeah, I hope he knocks it over the fence at least once."

At this, the girls became bored.  Trisha noticed that they had now reached the interchange with I-85 so she reached into her purse and pulled out her sunscreen.

Amber reacted, "I thought you wanted to get a tan today?"

"Yes, but not a sunburn.  This stuff is only SPF-4; I ought to get about an hour or sun out of it. That's plenty for one day," Trisha noted while placing her left foot up on the middle console near Doug's left arm and began to massage some lotion onto her foot and leg.  She then switched legs and did the same to the right foot. Doug smelled the lotion and looked down to see her pretty feet but he dared not comment with Amber in the car. This lotion had an interesting side effect that Trisha was not aware of, yet.  It made the leather straps, covering only about 1 percent of her foot, slippery.

Soon the foursome arrived at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium and found a reasonably good parking space.  However, it was still a pretty good walk to get inside. 

Chuck made notice of the new Olympic Stadium, which was practically ready for the games starting in a mere 5 weeks, "Hey look at the new stadium. It's really looking good. Trisha, I'll take you up to the upper deck to show it to you later on."

"Sounds like a lot of stairs."

"There's some, but there's also a ramp and an escalator in between."

With this, Trisha felt better.  As they were walking she noticed something strange.  Every once in a while, her right shoe would slide forward a couple of inches, stopping when the slope of her heel made her toes catch the sole before it could slide farther.  She tried to dismiss it and simply resolved to walk more carefully.

The first pitch was an hour away and once inside the stadium, they decided to stop at the concession area to get their lunch and carry it to their seats. There was a line and Trisha proceeded to dip in and out of her sandals constantly while advancing through the line. Finally all four had their food and they walked to their seats.

Chuck and Doug settled into their seats and immediately began to swing their tomahawks and join the crown in on the war chant, "AHHHH..UHH.AH.UH.UH.UH.UHH” Trisha and Amber tried not to follow along, but the peer pressure to do so was great.  They did prevail, however.

Luckily, the people sitting in the seats in front of them never made it to the game so this worked to Trisha's advantage.  Soon after the first pitch of the game, she stretched her legs straight out in front and rested her calves on the seat back in front of her. This exposed her pretty legs and her sandal-clad feet and red nail-painted for all who passed and sat above them.  While seated in this manner, Trisha popped her sandals against the bottom of her foot. At times she stretched her toes out horizontally and allowed the sandal to fall vertical only gripped by her toes. From this position, she occasionally bounced each sandal vertically so it would rise on her toes then fall back down.

The game started and Chuck and Doug were plenty excited and focused on the game.  Amber returned the conversation to Rochelle's coming next month.

"So Trisha, what's the details on the visit from that Rochelle lady? "

"Dad says we'll pick her up at the airport on Friday and drive her home. She has to go into town with Dad to work several days each week, but she also has tickets to some of the events on some of the other days.  I'm hoping we have at least one day to go into Buckhead and shop."

"We hardly ever get down to Buckhead, why don't you take her to the places around here like Towne Center Mall?"

"From what Dad said, they wear pretty nice clothes over there and I thought she might like Phipps Plaza and of course we'll go to Lenox as well."

"Phipps Plaza, that's a real expensive place! You can't afford that."

"I know Amber, but I can at least browse, can't I?"

After about 45 minutes of similar conversation, there was a huge commotion in the stands.  It was not really a cheer, but Doug and Chuck were real excited. Trisha lost her concentration and one errant bounce caused her right sandal to fly off. 

Over the loudspeaker, the play-by-play announcer was detailing the action, "A Triple Play!  A Triple Play has just been completed by the Dodgers against the Braves. With Braves on first and second, a pop up fly was caught by the shortstop who tossed it to the second baseman for the second out and he tossed it to first for the third out. A Triple Play! Wow!  Our stats man says this is the first Triple Play turned by the Dodgers since 1949!"

Trisha and Amber had no idea how rare it was to witness a Triple Play - they weren’t really sure what a triple play even was. They tried to resume their conversation, but Doug and Chuck wee so excited.  They tried to explain what had just happened but it was hopeless.

"So is Rochelle staying in your basement?"

"Yeah, she'll have her own bedroom, bathroom and kitchenette down there if she wants.  Mom's going to feed her in the morning and several nights.  We'll probably go out to eat some too.  Oh, and there's a reception at the Coke Museum one night I think."

Trisha obviously did not care that her shoe fallen; she just stayed like that for awhile - one sandal on and one off.  She continued to dangle just one sandal a bit but eventually, she just pulled up the sandal-clad foot, and dropped it under her seat - the other one was still where it had fallen earlier.

At the beginning of the 4th Inning, the people finally came to claim the seats in front of them.  Trisha was disappointed that this excellent tanning situation was now only average, but really what she had expected all along.  She pulled her feet back over the seat and placed them on the concrete floor below. She fished around and placed the one sandal back on. Then she remembered that the other one had fallen off.

"Excuse me sir," Trisha tapped the man who had the seat directly in front of her on the shoulder. "Do you see a blue sandal down there, I had dropped it earlier."

The uninterested man hesitated then finally looked down in front of him, "Nope, I see nothing down here."

"Are you sure?  I really did drop it down there."

The man seemed disturbed at the interruption but he looked around a little better, even under his seat and to the right and left, "I'm telling you it's not here. Sorry."

Trisha sat there with one sandal for about 15 minutes and pondered what to do next.  She could wait for the end of the game, but she knew she'd need it later to go to the restroom or to go with Chuck to see the Olympic Stadium.

Amber finally had an idea, "Hey maybe it fell under the seat in front of those guys - that's why they can't see it."

"Maybe so, but how can I get in there to look?"

About 15 minutes later, at the end of an inning, the guy sitting next to the guy in front of Trisha got up and left, so Amber whispered to Trisha, "Here's your chance!"

Trisha decided to give it a try.  She kicked off the remaining sandal and stepped into the now empty seat and sat down next to the guy she spoke to earlier. "Excuse me, but I'm going to look for my shoe."

"Be my guest!"  The guy was just happy she waited until the game was paused.

Trisha looked and sure enough what Amber said, had happened. But unfortunately the person sitting in the seat had finished off an order of cheesy nachos and her sandal had fallen upside down into the cheese.  She reached down and pulled it out, "Ick! I'll have to clean this off."

Trisha asked Amber to hand her the other sandal and she did. Trisha walked out to the steps, replaced the clean shoe on her left foot and carried the cheesy right one in her hand and walked step..clap..step..clap up to the walkway, through the tunnel and into the concession area.  Trisha grabbed several napkins from the hot dog stand and wiped off the cheese the best she could and tossed the cheesy napkins in the trash. She placed the sandal back on her right foot but it still felt sticky from the cheese.  Trisha dashed into the ladies restroom, wetted a couple of crumpled towels, took off her sandal and proceeded to clean off the sticky cheese residue. After using a few more towels to dry it, Trisha replaced the now clean sandal on her foot - "Good as new," she thought.  She departed the restroom and clacked down the steps back to her seat to return to enduring the rest of the baseball game.

Chuck and Doug realized that they had not paid little attention to the girls thus far, so with the Dodgers ahead and spirits low, Doug tried to pull the girls into a conversation. "So how's everyone's job going this summer?"

Amber piped in quickly, "Rio Bravo's a busy place.   The worst part is when a big family comes in ant they let their kids play with the chips and drop pieces on the floor. I'm always having to sweep up crumbs it seems. Otherwise, tips are decent and my hours are good."

Chuck followed, "I've been helping my dad over at Express Oil Change   He's the manager of the one on Cobb Parkway, you know.  He has me mostly clean up help out wherever I can.  It's not too bad."

With a pause of silence, Doug asked, "What about you, Trisha?"

Trisha, who has reverted to shuffling her sandals part off then back on replied, "Actually it's pretty good work.  I get to dress nicely and it's not as hectic as being a waitress, right Amber?  Plus I have met some great people both co-workers and customers.  I really can't complain.  And how about you, Doug?"

"Publix is a pretty good job, I guess.  It's a good little drive down to Paces Ferry, but I don't mind bagging groceries. That is a really busy store, though. I hardly ever stop. Just like you Trisha, I've met a lot of neat co-workers there also."

The conversation continued along the lines of their summer jobs. This was a rare opportunity for the four of them to all get some time off on the same Saturday; it had been a couple of weeks since they had been able to all get together. 

The game continued on a couple of more innings and the Braves seemed to be no threat to come back to win so Chuck suggested, "Hey Trisha, remember my suggestion about going to see the Olympic stadium?  How about now?"

"Sounds okay by me."  And with that quick exchange, Trisha slipped her toes fully back into her sandals and they two of them began their journey to the top of the stadium.

Chuck and Trisha maneuvered their way through a couple of sets of steps, a ramp and a small escalator before reaching the last set of steps to the top of the upper deck of the stadium looking south toward Olympic Stadium.

"We're almost here.  This section's pretty steep so hold on and be careful."  Chuck took Trisha's hand and began to guide her up the steps. Toward the end, Chuck, without realizing it, was going a little fast given Trisha's more tentative footwear. As they reached the last step at the top, Trisha's left heel caught in a crack and the momentum shift that occurred caused her to kick back with her right foot sending the sandal tumbling down the steps.  She looked back and saw that it has fallen down at least 12-15 rows of seats.

"I better go get that..," Trisha started.

"You might as well wait until you see the stadium.  See, look how pretty it is.  That's the section that will be torn down and re-done for baseball."

Trisha stood on one sandal and placed her bare foot on top of it for balance. She replied, "Really? You mean they built that for 2 weeks then they're tearing it down?"

"Only part of it.  They designed it to be easy to break down and reuse part of it.  It’s a nice stadium isn't it?"

Trisha was no expert of stadium architecture, now homes in Buckhead were another story.  "Yes Chuck, it's a nice place.  You ready to get my shoe and go back?"

"Okay." With that Chuck again held her hand as they went down the steep steps. It was harder than going up for Trisha since she was wearing one sandal.  As they approached the general area where the sandal supposedly fell Chuck, "You did see where it fell, right?"

"I thought it landed somewhere around here," Trisha replied while looking for her sandal with no success. 

"Maybe it got kicked farther down, I’ll go down and look," Chuck volunteered.

Trisha did not reply and she began to look under the seats in into the aisles on each row.  The concrete steps were very hot in the sun and her single bare foot was hurting from the heat. After a couple of minutes, Trisha was about to give up when she heard a young voice, "Is this your shoe?"

A 6-year old boy sitting near the end of one of the rows had quietly found the shoe and was playing with it with his feet while his father was not paying attention to what he was doing.

Trisha gleefully accepted the shoe back from the boy, replaced it on her foot and found Chuck as they made their way back to their seats.

Soon after their return, the game was over and the foursome made their way back to their car and back home where the Kendricks cooked hamburgers for them on the backyard grill.

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ROCHELLE IS CHOSEN FOR ATLANTA ASSIGNMENT - written by Alan Smith

Soon, July came and the Olympics were about to start.  The day came for Rochelle to arrive at the Atlanta Airport.   Her flight had originated in Edenglassie City with a long flight across the Pacific Ocean to Los Angeles, California on Edenglassie Air Service.  Then she changed to a direct flight on Delta into Atlanta. On the latter leg of the trip she was seated with other Coca-Cola PR folks from Perth, Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, Canelands City, Darwin, Hobart, Auckland and Christchurch, so she had some ability to talk with some of them on the plane and in the Los Angeles Airport (LAX),where she met them in the gate area.  However no one really had ever met each other before, so their conversations were mostly about the anticipation of their trip, their prospective hosts, the Olympics, Coca-Cola, etc..  Most of the employees were females under 35 years old, but a few of them were young men - specifically the ones from Melbourne, Darwin and Perth.

“At last!” Thought Rochelle. “An end to this humiliation!"

Her flight had began at Edenglassie City’s famed Thomas Brisbane Airport, and Rochelle... who had never flown business class before... had been determined to make an occasion of it. Well, it had been that, all right! And more!

Rochelle had been determined to look the part of an up-and-coming young executive, and thought that she had chosen her outfit perfectly. Her powder-blue suit, with the tight, hip-hugging jacket, the cream blouse by Givenchy, the Gucci clutch-bag, the sunglasses carefully suspended around her neck with a silver chain, and the Black Armani shoes with the three-inch heels were right out of Melrose Place.

Unfortunately, the skirt of the suit was, as well.

She had begun her journey a respectable, cool and collected young businesswoman, in perfect modesty, an image she was determined to project. But unfortunately the skirt had other ideas.

By the time she walked up the gangplank to board the EAS plane at Thomas Brisbane, the passengers walking behind were already being treated to a brief glimpse of the crotch of her flesh-colored sheer-to-waist pantyhose. Taking her seat, she was forced to yank furiously at the hem (she should, she realized, all too late, have checked its behavior when seated before choosing to wear it on a long flight!), to protect her modesty.

The seat next to her was taken by a rather goatish young man in a soiled tie-dye t-shirt and ripped jeans, who could hardly believe his luck, and though Rochelle politely but firmly resisted all his attempts at conversation, burying herself in “The Financial Review” (Of which she understood all but the cartoon), she could see by her occasional discreet glances in his direction that her skirt was refusing to accept the laws of gravity!

The plane was still flying over Edenglassian territorial waters when a glance down showed her that she was already revealing her dark-blue panties (bisected by a stark and obscene pantyhose crotch-seam) to the rest of the flight. She covered up, and yanked at her skirt, but by the time Western Samoa appeared underneath, it had again shot up almost to her waist! Enraged, she yanked at it, discretion forgotten as she tugged furiously at various points around the hemline, shifting in her seat. But her efforts were in vain. No matter how hard and how often she pulled and smoothed, the skirt would immediately work up towards her waist again.

Rochelle writhed in anger and embarrassment, as she saw the young man taking glances at her panties! Cleverly, he was not staring openly, but sneaking glances just long enough to see all there was to see, without holding his glance long enough to be able to be accused of ungentlemanly behavior. Not for the first time, Rochelle desperately wished she was the confident, sassy type of woman that she had read about in Sydney Sheldon novels or seen on American dramas. In her imagination, she held a hundred conversations, icily pointing out that the young man’s eyes would have been better employed elsewhere, rather than looking at the crotch of someone who was obviously his superior. Each time, the man eventually retreated in abject humiliation, and Rochelle basked in the appreciation of her own supreme wit and confidence. But in reality, it was Rochelle who suffered the humiliation, as the skirt became tighter and tighter, and shorter and shorter.

Her epic struggle with the rebellious skirt continued to escalate as the journey continued. Every few seconds, she tugged at the skirt, sometimes gaining as much as three inches of extra modesty. But it would immediately ride back up two, and unless constantly monitored would soon be back to its original position. The turbulent, kinetic waters of the Pacific Ocean passing below were positively static compared to Rochelle’s turbulent, kinetic skirt!

Rochelle’s struggles had served to draw attention to her predicament, and now other passengers were also enjoying the show. Other women, secure in the perfect behavior of their own skirts (even some far shorter, albeit less ride-prone than Rochelle’s), favored her with expressions of disgust, while the statement of the men ranged from sly appreciation to undisguised enjoyment.

Eventually, by strategic placement of her clutch bag and magazine, she was able to hide what her skirt couldn’t. But already, the adventure, which had begun with such hopes, was already shrouded in embarrassment!

After what seemed an eternity, the plane began to circle above Los Angeles International Airport. The goatish young man took a last, appreciative glance of Rochelle’s panties, and the plane came in to land.

But now Rochelle faced yet another embarrassment. When she had boarded the plane, the flight attendant had considerately placed her bag on the overhead rack. But now, as they were leaving, there was no attendant to be seen.

She toyed with the idea of asking another passenger to lift down her bag. Certainly not the goaty young man... she refused to give him the satisfaction! And the other passengers were far too busy fiddling with their own luggage! Besides, she did not want to draw any more attention to her mortifying difficulties than necessary.

Eventually, she decided upon a risky strategy. Clambering up onto the seat, she found, gained her enough extra height to reach around and hook the handle of her bag. A small thrill of triumph shot through her... “Sorry to disappoint you, perverts!” She mouthed, under her breath, She found the handle of the bag, and pulled.

Rochelle was the possessor of a number of virtues. It has already been mentioned that she had passed out third in her class at Business College. She was kind to animals (at least, the cute furry ones), tidy around the house, respectful to her parents and never fed fake coins to parking meters. But athleticism and dexterity were certainly not among her virtues!

She managed to grab the handles of the bag and yank, but it seemed to be stuck fast. She tugged harder... and suddenly, the bag came loose of whatever was obstructing it, and bag and Rochelle tumbled backwards over the back of the seat, her legs flying upwards. The skirt, which suddenly decided that this gravity thing was worth obeying after all, at least when its wearer was upside-down, sailed downwards towards her waist. Now, not only the crotch of her panties was visible but the waist as well. And to add to the spectacle, Rochelle’s pantyhose were a tiny bit loose around the midriff, and had gathered in a series of concentric rings of nylon around her hips. Sobbing with humiliation, Rochelle scrambled to her feet, and pushing her way past other passengers, holding onto her hem with her one free hand, her clutch-bag gripped in her teeth, and her overnight bag in the other hand, she made her way to customs.

Rochelle spent some time looking around the duty-free shops, grateful that since she was no longer sitting, her skirt was at least below the modesty level. The various goods for sale at Los Angeles Airport fascinated her. Hershey Chocolates, Wild Turkey Bourbon, Oreos, Lucky Strike cigarettes. And Californians fascinated her, too!

Everyone seemed to be under thirty, with many of them as young as fifteen. All were suntanned, blonde, impossibly good-looking, tall, willowy and amazingly feminine. The only exception to this general rule was some of the women.

In fact, her first encounter with an American was with one of the exceptions. A plump, motherly looking woman who approached Rochelle just as she was idly turning over a plastic statuette of a grotesquely muscled man stamped with the appellation “Muscle Beach”. The woman approached, and Rochelle sidled away quickly, clutching her possessions. She had been warned to be careful when traveling.

But as quickly as she sidled, the woman followed. Rochelle felt fear rising in her throat. No doubt the woman was a mugger, or a lesbian, or a drag queen, or, more probably, all three. She thought about calling the cops, but she knew damn well that all Californian Police were corrupt. She had, after all, watched every police show that had ever been shown on Edenglassian TV!

Just when Rochelle’s rising fear reached fever pitch, the woman shuffled right up to her. Rochelle tensed... no doubt she was about to be goosed. And her fear did not lessen when the woman began whispering in her ear.

“Excuse me honey...I hope you don’t mind me mentioning it, but the crotch of your pantyhose is showing!”

Instantly Rochelle’s face went from stark white to a deep crimson. Thanking the woman profusely, she wriggled frantically at her skirt, craning her neck to see the situation.

The woman had not exaggerated. For the not only had the skirt, eager to put to use the skills it had learned on the plane, ridden upwards, but the loose hose, determined to aid in the cause of Rochelle’s embarrassment, had slipped down until the crotch was now inches below where it should have been!

Helpfully, the woman pointed out the nearest washroom, to which Rochelle made with alacrity. Unfortunately, so frantic was her dash that one of her shoes slipped off, spinning towards a group of Japanese tourists.

The tourists continued on their walk, and the shoe landed amongst them, shuttling back and forth as if it were the ball in a rather unusual design of 3-D pinball! By the time Rochelle had recovered herself enough to chase after it, it was already a hundred yards away! She ran, still frantically holding her skirt, her brunette hair flying in all directions, and finally managed to corner it.

She bent to retrieve it, then stopped. That damn skirt! Already, she was showing her pantyhose crotch! Bending would leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. “I’m sure Heather Locklear never has this trouble!” She moaned, wriggling her foot into the shoe, and noticing with even more embarrassment the shifting, undulating folds of her baggy ankles.

Rochelle checked her watch. She was boarding the flight to Atlanta in ten minutes. Ordinarily, this would have left her plenty of time to visit the bathroom, adjust things as well as she was able, and then make the flight. But now, proceeding at a sort of ungainly shuffle, (For not only could she not hasten her pace without risk of her skirt rising even further skywards, but she could not lift her foot from the ground for fear of losing her shoe) she would be lucky if she made the flight at all.

However, for once, luck was with her, and she managed to find the correct terminal and board the flight with minutes to spare. Perhaps she would have better luck with Delta Airlines... EAS had been a disaster!

Later that day, on the flight to Atlanta, Rochelle met some of the other Coca-Cola executives who were going to Atlanta

“Randy Kincaid” Said a well set up young man - of the sort she had seen everywhere in California- “And this is Carl Weatherbee from Perth, Mandy Drake from the Auckland branch, Tracey Ashe from Christchurch, and Carrie MacPherson from Melbourne. Michelle, was it?”

“Rochelle.” Said Rochelle, tugging at her skirt and then realizing that she had no spare hand for the introductions. Shaking the hands of the various Coca-Cola officials... there seemed to be hundreds of them sharing her flight... took so long that by the time she had finished, her skirt had had time to corkscrew its way almost to pantyhose-crotch level again. She took a tight grip of her hem as she sat down, and then finished her performance by wriggling the skirt even further downwards. Desperately she fought to control her blush. Carrie MacPherson gave her a sympathetic smile.

It soon became obvious that Coca-Cola was a company that trained its personnel well in dealing with potentially embarrassing situations. Gratefully, she noticed that not a single one of the men looked at her crotch, despite the fact that within a few seconds of taking her seat, and despite all her efforts to retain her modesty, she was again revealing her crotch-seam to the world at large! She began to relax slightly. Could it be that no-one had noticed?

“So what’s the accommodation going to be like then?” Asked Stanley Sheppard from the company’s Los Angeles branch. “For those that aren’t being hosted by families?”

“They’re putting us in a set of pantyhoses... er... penthouses... in town, near to the Olympic village.” Replied Randy Kincaid. Rochelle, who had recently been reading a “Dummies guide to Freud”, simply because the blurb had promised how to prevent trouble with slips, blushed profusely.

“They didn’t want to at first.” Put in Carl Weatherbee. “Kept skirting... er, fudging around the issue. Anyway we’ll be there soon! Then it’s a long ride-up... er, um, ride... from the airport.”

Rochelle tugged frantically at her skirt, squirming in mortification. Luckily, the others pretended not to have noticed. But her problems were increasing in intensity. For the skirt... short enough to begin with... had now, thanks to being worn, become creased and buckled, and had removed at least two inches from its apparent length. In despair, Rochelle realized that when she alighted at Atlanta, she would probably be flashing the whole welcoming committee even when standing up. What that was going to do for Americo-Edenglassian relations she did not dare think. She had to get to a bathroom, and fast, and haul those damn hose up as tight as she could get them!

She stood up, and sidled her way past Mandy Drake, who was sitting next to her, looking cool and immaculate in a pair of immaculately creased slacks and a tunic. Immediately she staggered sideways as the plane lurched in the air.

“A little turbulence.” The pilot said over the PA. “Nothing to worry about.”

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