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The secluded beach wasn't the only good thing!

"

Brian had explained, "Your Daddy was in the car, ready to go and the damned thing quit, right in front of my place. I was glad to come get you. The tow truck should be there and gone by now."

Relieved that it wasn't anything too serious Lindsay relaxed. "Well thank you for coming. That was too nice!" She continued, "What keeps you in town this year? I'm used to you being gone to your family at Christmas."

"I'm used to a lot of things different, too. It's weird here with you away. I'm so used to having you around, in the office ..." he'd squeezed her hand, "I've really missed you. You'd have known that my Dad just retired ..."

Lindsay interrupted him, "He did! I didn't think he was ready to do that, Brian. Wow!"

"Yeah, I'm happy he took the early plan. Anyhow. They're off 'to Jamaica, mon'," his fake rasta accent was terrible, "and won't be back for a month." They'd continued to the car and packed the trunk full of her bags. "Cripes, Lindsay! Did you have to travel with everything you own?"

"They're Christmas presents in there Brian. Sheesh! It's that time of year."

He'd come around the luggage cart and leaned on the car fender beside her. Lindsay remembered how Brian had needed to clear his throat, "I know, Little One. It's the first time in about six years I've been able to attend the parties around here for Christmas. I know it doesn't seem like much of a big deal to you, but I feel lost in town this time of year, I haven't a clue about what goes on." Brian paused then turned to face her, "Lindsay, I've just said a lot of nothing there. What I really want to ask you is," he breathed and drew his shoulders back, "would you come with me to the Gala on Saturday? I know it's short notice but I'm sure your family would be attending anyway."

She'd smiled at him and accepted, unsure of how to tell him that there was no way her parents could afford a two-hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner. Brian had looked so pleased at her agreement. Lindsay had fretted a little afterwards knowing she wouldn't be able to get a new outfit. Her mom hugged her and said, "No new dress, Lindsay, but I'll bet we can recycle your gown from Cynthia's wedding."

"Oh God! Mom that's so..." Lindsay didn't know what to call it, "Bridesmaid!"

Madeline Petite had worked magic with the gown. She'd opened the back, letting the material decide how low it would fall down the wearer's spine. She had nipped, tucked and sewn until, at last, she was done. On Saturday, the night of the charity ball, Lindsay slipped her freshly dry cleaned and redesigned gown on, over her head.

It felt wickedly sensual as it cascaded down her body. She'd gained a bit of weight since breaking up with Joey. She concluded that it must have been all of the chocolate she'd eaten, for solace, that had added the extra pound or two. The fullness of her curves, the increased padding on her bones, had caused the smooth, chain-woven polyester gown to fall more gracefully over her hips than it had in August.

The material was so silky and soft against her bare nipples. The way the gown was now designed made it impossible to wear a bra. Lindsay twisted and noticed how her pantylines spoiled the effect of the dress. After she raised the hem and stripped off her underwear, she was almost scandalized at how her mons seemed to be enfolded by the midnight blue skirt. Not wanting to imagine how she must look from behind, with the dress cupping her ass, Lindsay knocked on her mother's door.

Clapping her hands delightedly at the graceful elegance of her daughter, "Beautiful! My girl, I have just what that dress needs!" Madeline turned to her jewel case and brought out a box. She lifted the black satin-lined top and allowed her daughter to see what was inside, on the midnight blue velvet. Lindsay was stunned that her mother would loan her the heirloom diamonds that had been in her family for four generations of women.

Madeline lifted the three carat pendant, full of beautiful, white stones.

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