burger break, then back to the parade

        “Hey Brigid,” another guy said as he passed, “are ya -- FRIGID?”

        He could detect Brigid giving him the finger from under the table.  He was fascinated by her even more now.  She could give as well as she got.

        “Woo!  Look!  The girl scouts!”  Debra’s announcement got the three of them up.  Careful to put her sandals on first, Brigid joined the rest of them as they went up to the big window facing the street.  They stepped up onto the low sill and pressed their hands against the glass, waving at their old troop leader, Miss Pikarski, who waved back as she passed by leading the pack of smiling little girls in overcoats.  Debra and Virginia, standing against the window covered all up in their jackets and long-legged trousers and boots, and in between, Brigid in her backless sandals, her total nakedness from the rear interrupted only by the little T-string in her butt, and the little cap clipped to her hair.

        They got down and for a while they ate silently.  Now another clown came by and said, “Were ya frigid, Brigid?” He could see it might become a nickname now whether she wanted it or not.  Frigid Brigid.

        Her eyes were darting around the room, as if making sure no one was looking.  Then she said, “This uniform is killing me.”

        Debra and Virginia seemed to know what she meant and looked around too.

        “Make sure the coast is cleah, O.K.?”  And then his mouth dropped as Brigid took the circlets off with a little sideways squeeze from each hand.  He saw now they were kept on by springy metal clips like you use to keep papers together, or on a clipboard -- “bulldog clips”, he thought they were called.  God, they must hurt!

        Her nipples stood out, stiff and red, like they were angry at being tortured all morning.  Brigid sighed and closed her eyes as she massaged them between her fingers.  It was almost as if taking them off was as painful as having them on.

        And then she opened her eyes and looked up at him for the first time -- smiling and giggling a little bit, with a shyness and sense of slight embarrassment that was unusual for this tough girl, as she cupped her breasts in her hands.  He smiled back and felt at that moment like he was in love.

        She returned to massaging her abused nipples then put her hands at her sides.  Her breasts wiggled a bit more freely now with the motions of her arms as she ate.  She looked up warily now and then.  Any T---- High majorette was aware of public indecency laws and knew she shouldn’t be out like this.

        Her breasts looked even more protruding, more pointy, with her red nipples exposed and sticking out.  Again, a fascinating aspect of white girls -- he had never seen a real live white girl’s nipples before, so expressive, angry and red.  Especially against the breasts which were returning to the normal white color, as they spent more time in this warm fast food place.

        Brigid’s breasts needed more soothing, apparently.  She finished her soda with a loud slurp and then she stuck her fingers in it.  She fished out two chips of ice which she now held up against her nipples.  “Mmmm...”  It was a sensual sound that made his dick hard.  Fortunately it wouldn’t show under all his coverings.  She checked around for grown-ups, rubbing the quickly melting chips against her.

        Now a clap from across the room.  Sarge’s signal.  “Quick, do me up heah,” Brigid said, turning to Virginia and sticking out her breasts.  Virginia hurriedly clipped the circlets on.  “Ow ow ow,” Brigid said, taking off the left one.  Virginia had clipped it too near the end of the nipple.  He imagined it must have hurt like hell.  Virginia re-did it.

        “How do I look?” Brigid said, turning to Debra.  “This one’s crooked,” her friend said, resetting one so that the “T” stood straight up.

        Then Frigid Brigid shook her breasts violently side to side, making them bounce like miniature soccer balls.  This took his breath away.  But it was the only way to make sure the circlets were secure.

        The band got up and made for outside.  He put on his shako and picked up his trombone and followed.  Having gotten hot in his uniform, he was almost grateful to feel the freezing air hitting his face as they emerged onto the sidewalk.  They were bottlenecked as members filed through the narrow cutout in the three-foot-high snow bank to get back onto the street.  Brigid was needed at the front and couldn’t wait.  So she took off her sandals and, using her baton as a walking stick, scaled the snow bank in her bare feet, her toes grabbing the refrozen slippery chunks of white with care.  It caused people to look but it was simply the sensible thing to do.