Her shorts were scandalous. She knew her mother would’ve died if she could see her now, parading in front of men in such short shorts——they were practically to her knees!

But that was just it. Her mother wasn’t here; this was California, not Rhode Island, and she wasn’t singing in her church choir. She was singing for a real band!

To be perfectly honest, she’d been apprehensive we she first saw the shorts; there was hardly any material! But once she put them on and admired herself in the mirror, she was sold.

She lingered on the set, unconsciously rubbing her smooth, golden legs as she watched the band set up. Finally, the director signaled the band to begin, and the lead singer moaned the opening lines of a song she knew all too well. “Ooh, man dig that craazy chick!” Then the band broke out into the familiar melody.

“Who wears short shorts?” the band sung, and as she had practiced so many times before, she sung back joyfully, “We wear short shorts!” savoring the pure wickedness of the words.