Barbara comes down.
She falls half onto your face and you remember why she's nicknamed
Barbie.
Barbara grabs onto you when you both get up. She's shaking. "My
lord, John. I seriously thought I was going to die."
The feeling of satin on your skin makes you realize the tomboyish
Barbara isn't in the shorts and t-shirt she left in. "What are
you wearing?"
Barbara looks down at the nearly-transparent lace dress that clings to
her girlish curves. It's strapless and barely reaches the tops of her
thighs. She plucks at it disdainfully. "Not exactly my usual
style, is it?"
"What the heck, Barbara-" You look again. "They even
took your UNDERWEAR?"
"I think we have worse thing to worry about than which ghost saw
my chest, John."
"Well, yeah, but-" Weren't girls supposed to care about
these things? Maybe she just wasn't self-concious around you.
You give her your tan leather jacket, which she quickly puts on and
zips. Wearing it, her long legs only show from the mid-thigh down. A
great improvement.
"We have to find Dave," you tell her.
"He's in here too?" She pauses. "I get it. Whatever it
is that took us put me in this thing to lure him in. That must have
been why that periscope thing shot down there."
What you had mistaken for a hand had actually been a periscope. And
Dave had wet his pants at the sight of his girlfriend dressed like
this. Yeah, that's definitely Dave.
"Anyway, we aren't leaving until we find Dave," you say
determinedly.
"Of course. He is my boyfriend, after all. No one loves him more
than I do," she says, and something hurts in your
chest.
You hold out your arms and Barbara falls through the hole into them.
She's small and light, but you still fall straight onto the floor with
her on top of you.
