Not exactly

After another couple hours of driving, I had adjusted to a slightly more relaxed position, legs falling slightly open and head back against the seat. I was only jolted out of my relaxed mood when I felt the car slowing down. Reaching up to stretch, working kinks out of my shoulders seemed the natural thing to do, until another 'pop' announced my mistake.

This time I wasn't the only one to notice either. "Oh no Jazz you lost a button", Liz simpered, peering at my chest where the third button from the top had just disappeared from. This attracted the attention of everybody else and mom announced that this couldn't do. I started to suggest that maybe I could change clothes now that we'd stopped, but Aunt Jen brushed me off.

Her suggestion was to open the second button, opening up the top of the dress and hiding the fact that the third button was missing. It was almost summer anyway, nobody would even notice. I was skeptical of this but went along with it. Opening the second button myself, it didn't seem so bad as the material laid flat on my chest, leaving only a gap in the middle showing a little cleavage.

Somehow in all the discussion, nobody noticed the buttons missing at the bottom of the dress and I didn't even remember that they could have been used to convince them of the need to change. It wasn't until we exited the car, walking towards the diner that Liz said was the perfect dinner spot for our first day, that I realized my mistake.

I had never stopped to adjust the dress when leaving the car. Walking towards the glass door of the diner I could clearly see my pussy . The last button on the dress rested on my mound, leaving my entire lower lips , clit and all in plain view. Thinking fast as my mom pushed open the door, a cheery jingle announcing us, I pulled at the sides of the dress.

The move hopefully covered my pussy, because before I could recheck, Liz and Aunt Jen were suddenly on either side of me, holding on to my arms and exclaiming that the best seats in the house were still free. Looking to where they gestured, I saw a set of four red curved barstools around a high table in the center of the diner.

The round, raised platform it was on had only a couple of potted plants around the edges and a clear view of all the other tables. The other tables also had a clear view of it. It was a table made for those who wanted to be seen. Walking up to the platform and up to the modified bar stools. I wondered how much I would show just to get into the seat.

Not wanting to be the last one standing as my family took a seat, I quickly pulled myself onto the seat, just in time for a waitress to approach the table. Unsurprisingly, Liz ordered for everyone, knowing from her web surfing exactly what each of us would like from the menu.

Before I could check on just what I was showing, Liz had another request for pictures. My aunt and I sitting farther away from Liz were ordered to lean in so we could all get in to the frame. This ended up in me being draped half across the table, at the edge of my seat, only my feet on the lower rung of the chair keeping me balanced. After what felt like hundreds of pictures Liz pronounced us done... from this angle.