I was in Junior high school(aka middle school for the Left coasters) when Hot pants hit the fashion scene. As if it wasn't hard enough containing(hiding) my adolescent excitement from all the budding young ladies around me, then the girls started wearing THat provocative fashion on their tight round teenage butts. I had to carry my books in front of me to hide the cronic state of arousal I was in.

 I wonder what we will think of the current "low cut" trend in jeans and slacks in 20 years?

  FR.

"Tattooing had been practiced for more than 6,000 years and has been traced back to the pharoahs of Egypt. The tattoos to the form of connected dot and lines which formed symbols by which the dead were recognized when they emerged in the afterlife. The tattoos were a symbol of status, generally being used only for royalty. This tradition would continue even in modern times in various cultures. In many current Polynesian cultures, a tribe chieftans are tattooed as they are elevated up the line of power until they become High Chief, where they tattoos can stretch from mid-chest all the way down to the knee (the word tattoo is derived from the Polynesian word "tatau"). In other cultures, tattooing the face or an entire body is seen as an artistic expression... It was not until the 1970's that tattoos became more acceptable. The Age of Aquarius focused on positive symbols such as butterflies, hearts and smiley faces. They could be seen on all parts of the body - neck, shoulder, ankle, or chest...The art of tattooing made a huge comeback in the 1990s, especially amongst women. For many women, getting tattooed represented a strong step in defiance against the concept that such was not ladylike. Rebelling against the rules of proper behavior was a strong statement of self-expression and created a whole new fashion look as women found new place to conceal (or reveal) their new statement (including the base of the spine which became extremely popular in the mid-1990s)."

And for something a little humorous, Ms. Spears got another meaningless tattoo.

http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/allnews/tm_objectid=14205055&method=full&siteid=50143&headline=a-load-of-old-tatt--name_page.html

http://www.britneyspears.bz/bp/tattoos/neck.shtml

(Personally Mr. VR, I was never a fan of hot pants. They restrict the blood flow to my clitorus, and that can be a very bad thing. *smirk*)

One August night, late, I was walking up Seventh Avenue after a dinner with a former client.  I’d had way too much to drink, and the street was kind of blurry.  I reached the corner of 57th Street and to my surprise (!), there were a number of very attractive young ladies in hot pants and halter tops, hanging around the phone booths kitty-corner from Carnegie Hall.  I was about to inquire if, perhaps, they'd just enjoyed the Berlin Philharmonic, when one of them approached me to ask for a "date."  She was all of about 21, with light copper hair, a spray of freckles across her face, perfect teeth and a coltish body.  And she was wearing hot pants.  

Uhhh...I said in my sodden state.  "I'd have to go to the cash machine."

"Okay!" she said, taking my hand.  "Let's go!"  I hadn't expected that, but at this point, it was hard to say no.  A gorgeous redhead prancing me down 57th Street toward Citibank, heels clicking on the pavement, those legs scissoring in the reflections of the shop windows?  Yeah, let’s go!  

A few minutes later, we were in a cab to my place.  "My name is Lila," she said, snuggling up to me.  "But last week it was Dierdre and next week it'll be Holly.  Which one do you like best?"

“I was thinking maybe Diana,” she said before I could answer.  Then she sat up, and in the dim light I could see her long legs, sleek and unblemished.  “But why don’t you call me Siri, at least for tonight.  I like that.  Siri.”

“Okay, Siri.”  We were at my place, a second-floor walkup on Columbus Avenue; it was one of those bare-brick-wall-in-the-living-room apartments that looked like it had taken a wrong turn in the late 70s.

“Wow, where’s your furniture?” Siri said as we stepped in.   I explained that I’d just gotten divorced and been cleaned out.  She rolled on to the bed – one of the few pieces of furniture I had.  “Okay, the money?”  I took out my wallet and extracted the agreed price.  “Lemme see,” she said, crawling over to me and peering into the wallet.  Like a kitten, she fished out another hundred dollars.  “It’ll be worth it.  You’ll see.  I’ve got the best technique.”

She took off her clothes and I sat there stunned.  She had, perhaps, one of the most beautiful bodies I’d seen in my life.  The hot pants had done justice to her legs and hips.  I pulled down my shorts and she bent over to start BBBJ.  

But nothing happened.  In my inebrieated state, the little guy wouldn’t budge.  

We went into the kitchen, and Siri got an ice cube and hot water.  “Fire and ice.  Works every time.”  

But it didn’t.

“Okay.  I know what.”  She turned off the lights, so that the light from the hallway was all we had; it fell across her body sensuously.  “Watch me.”  

Then she lay on the bed and gave me a show with the dirtiest talk I’ve ever heard in my life.  My eyes were riveted on her body, then her face – the slight smile, almost a sneer – the kittenish voice turning almost defiant, almost challenging me to take her.  My little friend got enthusiastic really fast, and in a moment I was on top of her.  She continued talking, telling me how I was making her feel.  And then it was over.

“That was good,” I said.

“Lemme give you my phone number.  I got a crib in this building downtown, you have to ask for the extension, but you’ll get me.  Better than the place last week.”

She wrote down a number on a slip of paper.  I took it, then asked, “What name should I put on it.”

“Jessica, like I told you.  So you going to give me your  number?”

I did.

Then she left.  I stood in the darkness of my living room by the window, watching the street, and saw her exit the front door.  She turned around and stopped, looked at the door as though memorizing the address, then turned away, heels clicking on the pavement, legs scissoring in those hot pants.

I remember wearing them with some very cute little boots out clubbing with my friend in Tahoe, Reno and San Francisco -- very fun.

Hugs,
Ciara