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Closing the book, Eleanor sat, silent for a few moments. “The dress in the charity shop.”“I took it back.”“You bought it?”“No! you did. ... found it on my doorstep with a card from you.”Her face was unreadable, her voice low. “Maggie, I didn’t buy it for you.”But it had been there. The card! In my bin. I rushed to my kitchen bin, pulled all the rubbish out of it, searching frenziedly for the card but it wasn’t there. I banged my head against the wall in frustration and slumped to sit on the. Opera hose. Crotchless pantyhose. Seamed, sheer, opaque. I saw silky and glittery tights. Three or four bodystockings. And, in the back, about five garter belts of varying colors, widths and fabrics. I indulged my desire to run my hands through to soft, cool smoothness of the layers of thrilling tactile sensations. But then the last drawer beckoned. With intense excitement, I pulled it open. My jaw literally dropped as I drank in the sight of an array of simulated cocks – a veritable. More

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