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Chapter 1: What Was In Her Closet

Pastel blue and baby pink nylon, white lace and yellow satin sprang out of the closet door at me, soft fabrics brushing against my skin. Goosebumps exploded out across my skin and my heart leaped into my throat. My arm drooped, and the closet door fell open, revealing rows of gossamer garments stuffed one next to the other.

What am I even looking at? I thought in shock. And then, despite the surprise, something a little more pragmatic: And where am I supposed to put my stuff?

"Did you find it?" Faith's voice floated down the hallway and made me jump nearly out of my skin.

I slammed the closet shut and whirled around as if I'd been caught in some horrible act. I was facing an empty doorway, Faith still out in the living room or in the kitchen.

"I think so!" I called back, my voice cracking. "Is it the room with the, uh —"

"Yeah, the blue duvet!"

I glanced at it. So it is.

"Oh, uh, right," I murmured.

I sat heavily on it, facing the closed closet door and trying not to think about what was inside. There was no reason for me to be feeling as alarmed as I was. It's not like she saw me doing something wrong. I didn't even do anything! They were her nighties in there. She must have just forgotten about them.

I'll just have to work around them. After all, I was going to be here for a few months. I couldn't just have my clothes strewn around the room.

I stood and walked to the door, but hesitated with my hand on the knob. My heart was galloping and my palms were slicked with sweat, but that wasn't what made me stop. My pants were tight. My pants were tented.

That's weird.

Nylon and silk rustled softly as I squeezed my shirts and pants in at one of the clothes rod. The small closet was packed with all manner of girly clothes: gowns, slips, robes — in all colors and universally overflowing with lace and ruffles and frills. I couldn't help but stare at them. The sheer number was enough to make anyone stop and look.

It's not like I wanted to do anything with them.

The dresser in the corner was similarly filled with panties and soft, see-through things and a strange, belt-like garment with strange straps dangling from it. I lifted one gingerly, pinched between my fingers, the light from the window playing through the sheer fabric and rows of ruffled lace that ran around it. I'd never seen anything like it.

There was something almost illicit about touching it. Faith's collection of girl stuff. It was old-fashioned, but that didn't make it any less sexy. I could just about picture her wearing it, a red curl escaped from an up-do as she strode around the house in a shimmering, translucent robe.

That explained why I was getting hard — who didn't like a beautiful woman in lingerie? Sure, Faith was older, but that didn't bother me. She was still radiant, slender but curvaceous and with a penchant for form-fitting clothes. Anyway, older women knew what they wanted and what they liked, and I always thought that was kind of a turn-on. Getting a little bossed around by someone more experienced than me?

Maybe she'd even stroke me with a pretty pair of panties.

"I see you've made yourself right at home!"

I whipped my head around and saw her draped across the doorway, coat in one hand, one eyebrow raised. "Oh, uh, I hope that's okay," I suddenly felt guilty.

Her face melted into a broad grin. "It's your home now, Henry! Any issues?"

I thought about what was in the closet, but for some reason I decided not to bring it up. After all, she was letting me stay here — I'd hate to seem ungrateful. This room would work, and I wouldn't want her to have to take all her stuff out of it. Better to keep it to myself.

"Not at all!" I returned her grin.

"Then why are you still making me wait for dinner? C'mon!"

I cast one last glance at the closet, then followed her out the door.