Skirt versus kilt

As soon as she saw me sitting at the table near the stage, Stormy walked over and leaned over from the waist, which put her face level with mine, and not-coincidentally showed off her tits. “Hi! You’re not usually in here so late.” It was close to 1:00 AM.

“Right. But here I am.” I’d started the night at a different bar but still wanted to hang out with Stormy.

I pointed at the tiny skirt she was wearing, which was little more than a four-inch wide ribbon of pleated plaid wrapped around her waist. “I have a kilt at home that’s the same tartan!”

“This skirt? A kilt?” She posed and held out the sides. “Is it this short?” She turned around and flounced the back up and bent over again from the waist, looking back at me. “Can people see your butt when you wear it, like this one?”

I laughed. “No. Oh, hell no. No one wants to see that.”

I was glad to be here. Stormy always makes me smile.