He pulled on his new boots and paced up and down the room a few times. They felt good and comfortable. He nodded his approval. “So, what’s your question?”
Tiffany took a deep breath. She had been wanting to ask Buford for a while, but had always been too embarrassed to ask. She shifted uncomfortably, then said, “It’s about your old boots.”
Buford grinned again. Tiffany could feel her face getting hot. It was too late to turn back now. She took another breath. “I wanted to ask you,” she said, “what you were thinking when you were using me to clean the soles of your boots. At least, I think you were using me to clean them.” She paused. Buford didn’t say anything, so she continued: “I have my own ideas about what you were thinking, but I don’t really know, since you never said anything while you were cleaning them.” She paused again. “Anyway, I just wanted to know for sure whether I was right.” Tiffany looked down, unable to meet Buford’s gaze.