"I love undergarments," Viktoria told me.
     She waved an arm.
     "Not just your light, flimsy things—bits of lace—what do they call them? thongs?—but serious undergarments. Real corsets, of course, but also girdles—open bottom girdles, full body girdles. I like the sensation—of being embraced—by the garment itself."
     She smiled, rather dreamily, I thought.
     "And then slips—I love slips. Full slips. Half slips. Lounging slips. Piegnoirs and silk robes—diaphanous things that float around me. And brassieres, of course, tiny lace brassieres—and shelf bras—underwired—the ones that leave your nipples bare. I like a little lift, espeially these days. And bullet bras too, those pointed things. I like wearing them under cashmere sweaters. Very Lana Turner-ish. You remember her?"
     "The film sirens of the forties."
     "When I wear a shelf bra I like to paint my nipples."
     "That sounds—exciting."
     "But for today—for these pictures—I think just a girdle. Nothing else. Well, stockings, of course, I always wear stockings. And some nice heels. Does that sound all right?"
     I nodded my head...