"Time to go," she told me, producing my "outerwear," such as itwas. First came a pair of opera-length white satin gloves,exceedingly tight and fetish...stic. So tight, in fact, that Icould scarcely move my elbows or fingers once they were on. Sheforced my arms behind my back and demonstrated the gloves' othersecret: The two halves of a nylon zipper ran up the inner side ofeach glove. Forcing my arms close together, she closed thezipper, imprisoning my arms as if they were bound in a singleglove.. It was very elegant and not as busy as one would have expected on a Saturday evening. The patrons were clearly of middle age to senior. Happily, the menu was similar to their recollection of Ambrosia. There was a three piece combo playing light jazz and the atmosphere was exactly what Bill wanted. His courting of Zena Wildman had resumed.It had been a quiet Bill Orton at dinner. He thought she might talk about her life, but held back, seemingly waiting for Bill to set the tone. He hadn't yet,. More

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