Nadine is my wife. I remember her now. I know I love her and I know wewere high school sweethearts. She is an attractive woman for her age butshe i... not the woman I dreamt about in my coma. She wears hardly anymakeup and seldom wears skirts and satin blouses; she's a pantsuit andcotton shirt girl. Sensible shoes and minimal accessories, that's her.Her hair is usually kept up; tied in a neat bun or swept back in aponytail.She nurses me until I am fully recovered and am ready to return to. They were long black socks. I shrugged and pulled the first one up my leg. It came up to my thigh, about three inches below the hem of my skirt. The top was elasticated with frilly lace and a black silk ribbon threaded through so that they held themselves up. I pulled the other one on and looked in the mirror. My hairy legs were much better hidden. Only three inches of my thighs showed and you couldn't see the hairs on them through the tights unless you looked really closely. I had seen Jane. More

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