At first, everyone assumed that the women with mottled legs were either survivors of atomic attack or carriers of a rare, undoubtedly contagious skin disease. Headwaiters isolated them at restaurants, husbands kept yards away in public and normally affable children (their own) withdrew in horror at the sight (once good and simple) and touch (once soft and silky) of mothers grown suddenly striped, checked or just plain scaly from the knee down. They were only wearing textured stockings, but months went by before even best friends dared come close enough to tell...
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