What I Like About You

I like a woman who says "panties."

If you say "panties," you probably think everybody says "panties," but you're wrong. Some women say "underpants." Some say "underwear." Panties is what they are: sexy, frilly, taboo articles. I tried to wear my sister's panties when I was a kid, so I learned they are naughty. When you say "panties," I think you're naughty, too. Am I alone in this, guys?

I also like a woman who can handle a stick shift. OK, a manual transmission. It's a control thing: You have to know how a drive train works in order to drive a stick. RPM's, flywheel, clutch, synchros. And connect all that to pushing the right pedals at the right time and sliding the shifter into position. Being in the right gear. And this doesn't even take into account the motion of the legs required to accomplish this, preferrably in heels. This is a woman who knows what the hell she wants, and how to get it. The ultimate extension of this is the woman who downshifts to pass. If you drive like that, can I ride along?

I love a woman who can carry a tune. She doesn't have to be a pro, or have any particular singing style, but the ability not only to recognize a melody, but also to recreate it more or less faithfully -- that turns me on. It's magic when she pulls the notes out of memory and performs the task of converting that memory into physical sound, using lungs, larynx and lips. I did it for a living for a long time, but the how of it remains a mystery. I become entranced when I witness it.

And red, red lips.

I like lips a lot, and they can be plain or painted with any number of colors and glosses, and it's all good. But when you do 'em up in Real Red they take on an erotic charge that's hard to look away from. Maybe you think red is the wrong color for you. I urgently request you to think again.

Did I say "heels" earlier? Yeah, I know they're uncomfortable and orthopedically incorrect, but good God you look hot when you wear them! And every time I hear a pair of them clicking down the hall outside my office, I start having nasty co-worker fantasies just from the sound. They could be the simplest black pumps or exotic platform sandals -- they do something for you, from the tilt of your ankle to the line of your calf to the curve of your ass. Geez, now I'm all sweaty again.

Put on your pretty panties, baby, your high heel shoes, red dress and lipstick. C'mon out and play. C'mon out and dance in the sprinklers, twirl in the moonlight. I'll be wearing my skinny red tie. Pick me up at the corner and let's go for a ride.