Dale, an acquaintance of mine from college, will never know how much I appreciated him that day.  When he walked into the library, I caught eyes with him, he nodded briefly, then stopped by the girl I had been watching and talked with her.  For at least 15 minutes.  He knew her!  When he came by to see me afterward, my first question to him was "Hey--how do you know that girl?  What's her name?"  "Oh, that's Linda.  I know her from my home town.  Didn't realize she was going to this college until we bumped into each other at random last month."  I waited patiently to hear more, and he failed to say anything else.  "So, what's the deal?  Is she dating anyone?  What do you think of her?"  He thought about it briefly, "I don't know if she's seeing anyone.  We don't talk a lot about that.  She's cute and sexy, but I don't get the feeling that she's interested, and we're probably not each other's types."  "Well, how about introducing us?"  Dale got a funny look on his face.  "Introduce you?  Ummm... I don't...  it'll seem kind of odd, like I'm trying to set you up."  "Dale, don't be ridiculous.  We'll head out and on the way, make sure to stop by her.  If she notices me, then introduce us!"

"Hey Linda, good seeing you again," said Dale, catching Linda's attention.  "Are you coming to Ron's party this Friday?"  "Oh, probably not.  I've got an intense dance rehearsal early Saturday morning, so I can't stay out late."  Dale frowned.  "OK.  Well, if you change your mind, I'll see you there.  Oh yeah, by the way, this is Greg."  She looked up at me, for what seemed like at least 15 seconds with no reaction.  Then like a light switch going off, she sprung a smile and said "Hi, nice to meet you.  Are you a long time friend of Dale's?"  I smiled back.  "Nice to meet you too.  No, Dale and I met last semester--we were living in the same dorm."  "I see.  You going to the party on Friday," she asked?  I was probably going to go, but... somehow I wanted to say that I wasn't sure yet, just so that I could be free to ask her out for a coffee or something.  But I chickened out.  "Yeah, I'll be there.  But not too late, because I've got an early morning bike ride to do."  She got this coy look on her face and said "Maybe I just might show up afterall.  At least for a little while.  See you there?"  "Sure."  "Well, got to get back to my work."  Dale looked at me suspiciously.  "Ok, Linda.  See you around!"  "Bye."  "Bye..." and she flashed a little smile at me.

Outside, Dale looked at me with a hint of jealousy.  "So, what was that all about?"  "What do you mean?"  How obvious could it be, I thought.  She seems to like me.  For whatever reason...  Dale is a stereotypical football player, so he sometimes needs the obvious explained.  "She changed her tune after she heard you were going.  But why would she do that--she's not interested in you," he claimed.  "Oh?  Is that what you think?"  "She just met you, man.  There are plenty of other guys in her life, and I'm sure she's dating at least one of them."  I looked at Dale and shook my head, "well, you just got done telling me earlier that you don't know if she's seeing anyone."  Heh, I got him on that one.  "Huh?  Whatever...  Anyway, let's get going.  I'm starved and the cafeteria is closing in a half-hour."  We went on our way.

At the party, there was just a bit of activity going on.  A few semi-cute women.  A bunch of steroid looking jocks and a couple of half-nerds.  But good music and some decent munchies.  I dressed up semi-casual, sporting a jacket and jeans with sharp looking shoes.  Women notice guys when they're wearing well made shoes.  At least, that's what I've been told.  It was about 10:30pm, and I was beginning to think Linda wouldn't show up.  But out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a lithe figure slinking into the room.  My head whipped around to end up spotting this gorgeous body, clad in a long sleeve black leotard/bodysuit, a short black leather skirt, white shimmery tights, and black low heeled flats.  It was Linda.  And I thought I was going to have an orgasm just looking at her.  When she managed to catch my eye, I quickly gained my composure and waved lightly to her.  She instantly beamed a little smile and glided over to me.  "Hi Greg--how's the party?"  "Hey Linda.  Glad you could make it.  Party's pretty good.  Just a little light on the crowd.  I think it'll probably peak around midnight."  She nodded.  "Can I get you something to drink," I asked.  "Yes, just a Cranberry and Perrier.  No vodka or anything.  I can't afford to drink tonight."  I spun around, because the bar was right behind me, grabbed what I needed, and had a drink ready for her in just under 15 seconds.  "Wow, that was fast!  Do you bartend part time or something?" she said jokingly.  I smiled back.  "Yeah, I was in tryouts for the movie 'Cocktail' but as luck would have it, they picked Tom Cruise over me.  Can you believe it?"  I winked.  She smiled.  And we kept talking and joking for what seemed like hours.  It was just what I needed after a long week of mid terms.

We had been talking about our interests and she told me quite a bit about her work in ballet.  Finally, I got up enough nerve to ask her what I'd been curious about ever since I saw her the first time.  "Linda, I'm wondering about something.  I've known a few girls who take ballet over the years, but you're the first I've ever met that wears ballet clothes outside of class and rehearsal.  Why is that?"  She gave me this look, almost slightly confused, and said "Ballet clothes?  I never wear my ballet clothes outside the dance studio."  "Oh.  Well, it's just both times I've seen you, you're wearing...   well, you're wearing tights and leotards."  She looked at me a little odd, her cheeks becoming slightly flushed as if she were embarrassed.  "Those aren't ballet clothes.  They're not the right cut or color.  But what's your point?  You think it's odd?"  I suddenly started feeling embarrassed.  "No, it's not that I'm trying to make a point.  I was just curious.  I would have thought if you have to wear those things for ballet all the time, you'd want to get away from them when you're out doing other things."  "Well, not everyone dreads the thought of squeezing into a leotard," she said with a purposely strained smile.

This whole interaction was not going the way I had expected.  I thought she looked so hot in tights and a leotard.  In fact, I couldn't help but get aroused when I saw her both times.  I wanted to find out more, why she would chose to dress this way.  But somehow I wasn't approaching this right.  If I kept it up, we'd probably get into an argument and never speak again.  I felt like I should back off.  But this would probably be the only time I'd ever get to talk with her about it.  I decided to take a chance.  "I think I may have given you the wrong impression.  I...  well, I think you look great in those.  I mean, being skin tight they really show off the fantastic form you've worked so hard to achieve."  A heavy duty compliment like that is always appreciated when sincere.  I was hoping I came across that way.

I did.  (Yeah!)  She smiled at me.  "Thanks... Some guys insist that I shouldn't wear tights, that something like pantyhose would flatter me more.  Maybe... I have great skin, but I enjoy the hugging feeling I get with tights.  Especially on a cool night."  "And you like the way you look in them too, right?"  I caught her off guard, "Huh?  What do you mean?"  I had to continue, no turning back now.  "When I first saw you, you were rubbing your right foot up and down your left leg and kept glancing at them while reading your book.  Looked to me like you were enjoying what you saw."  Her face became even more flushed than before.  Almost defensively, she said "I just bought those tights--they're a great blend of spandex/lycra/cotton, and so I was looking to see how they fit.  The material feels really great."  "Yeah, I can imagine," I said with a smile.  "Can you," she challenged.  "Well yeah, with clean shaved legs and super smooth material like that, it must feel good.  I can understand why you enjoy wearing them."   Linda had a slightly devilish look on her face.  "What brand do you think they were," she quizzed.  Before I could even really think about it, in a knee-jerk reaction I said "Donna Karan."  She seemed a little surprised.  "How'd you guess??"

Yes, how DID I guess.  I wasn't dating anyone.  She knew that.  I hadn't had more than a handful of short flings during my first semester.  So, how on Earth would I be able to spot DKNY hosiery like that?  Of course I couldn't tell Linda that I had my own collection.  She'd probably zap me with an unbelievable look and then never speak to me again.  I was trapped.  I didn't have a story in my head.  I was completely caught off guard.  What was I going to say?

[to be continued...]