Sensory Underload

by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2005, 2009

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons
Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In
jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United
States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to
Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are
explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission
note must remain attached.

Abstract: Women aren't the only ones in women's closets

Silently Billy padded into the bedroom. He opened the closet door; it was just
as he remembered it. The strong odor of mothballs, mixed with the tempering
scent of lavender and the acrid tang of plastic dry-cleaner bags.

The hamper was where he expected it, and he sank his arms deep into its
contents. One hand emerged clutching a pair of lace-trimmed panties and he
crushed them into his face, his other hand covering his groin with a lover's
delicacy. His excitement grew as he breathed, his mind traveling back in time.

The culminating moment approached, his body shook all over in the confines of
the small space. He closed his eyes, abandoning himself to the moment.

Then suddenly, a shrill voice sliced through his supposed solitude, shattering
his near-bliss. "Oh jeeze, Bill, twenty years of therapy and you're still at
it. Ma! My husband's in your closet again!" His wife walked away, her muttering
clearly audible, "Once a perve, always a perve..."

/END/

Endnote: Composed for the 2005 Fragrant Flash Story Competition at FishTank;
see the winning entries at http://www.Desdmona.com/ContestWinners.asp