He did. Still slowly, moving gently, almost. The boards of my attic bedroom, in my poor husband's old, creaking house, did not sound beneath his steps... His face was still shaded when he reached for me, but that only made the first touch sweeter. My thief was who I wanted him to be, like that. As he ran a shaking hand into my hair, brought another down to join my own on my breast, he was a desert prince divesting me of my silken robe. As he settled on the edge of my bed, warmth and solidity at. A light summer skirt was stretched over her slim hips and he strained to see any hint of a visible pantie line. There was none that he could discern. The customer paid and started to leave. At the door she stopped, hesitated, checked the contents of her cleaning bag then turned to Bobby. “Excuse me but I wonder what happened to a pair of my daughter's panties that were mistakenly left in the pocket of my pants?” Bobby felt the blood drain from his face then flush back again. “Ah, I don’t. More

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