I didn’t know for sure, but maybe Helen and I were the only ones in town to have had some college. Not counting Doc Gimble of course.I enjoyed her visits; it was usually an interesting conversation. And a relief not to be discussing sex with young boys.One snowy afternoon as I was feeding the fire, she asked me, “Flint, what is the difference between a frontier and a border?”Huh.Not something I’d ever thought about. I guess the frontier, the one in my mind anyway, was my personal trek westward. Toward something new, something different.A border? Well, as the frontier became civilized, or at least settled, I guess the border kept changing. Or borders — as statehood came to different places, maps had to be redrawn.But I suspected that Helen had something more ... profound in mind. Not lines drawn on paper, but lives changed. Tribes uprooted, settlers always pushing further and further. Families like the Robinsons altered forever.Something to think about — frontiers and borders.One. My eyes were closed, I had my hands on my tits, and I seemed to be close to an orgasm. I slowly spread some of the other photos, then impulsively pushed them away and turned my head.“The dress,” he said, tilting his head down and looking at me through his eyelashes. His smile became even more wolfish.Inwardly I smiled, knowing that one of us was in control… and that it wasn’t him. But I straightened up and moved slowly back to the middle of the room. I reached behind me, and undid the zip at the back, and pulled it most of the way down. Next, I slowly brushed my dress off of my right shoulder, revealing the black strap of my lacy bra. I did the same with my left shoulder, then shimmied out of the dress, letting it pool at my feet, then stepped free.I was now wearing a black, lacy bra, matching panties, white high heels, diamond stud earrings, and my public collar. I re-crossed my arms over my tits, as if embarrassed.“And the rest,” was all he said.I swallowed, as if scared, reached.
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