seen anywhere, and she wondered what had happened. This wasn't the first time some of her lingerie had come up missing recently, and she was thinking "could it be some young girl around here is taking it?" Her thoughts had turned from men to missing clothing, and she began to total up the items she had missed recently. A favorite baby doll set of black nylon which Ted had given her for her birthday; a blue lace filled waltz length gown; and a yellow one that she had dearly loved too. At least four pair of nylon satin panties in pretty feminine shades, two brassieres, several pairs of stockings and a slip or two. All in the past six months too! Should she call the police and report it? "If they wouldn't dwell on so many details I would," she thought, "but I can't look men in the eye and discuss colors and sizes of my intimate apparel”.

She closed the door with a sigh of resignation, and a silent promise to hang a line in the bathroom if the thefts continued. She didn't like her pretty unmentionables hanging in the bathroom, especially since her dates often used it when they came to call or brought her home at night. She kept a very neat place and was a bit on the finicky side about cleanliness. It was one thing she admired about Ted. As she thought of his neatness, his clean fresh "smell", his tender but strong arms, she shivered and smiled wickedly. "I'll know more about you, honey boy, after our date Friday night", she thought, and her stilled passions slightly warmed up. "What will it be like," she asked herself, "to really be loved by a man?" Ted was a man, and this she couldn't doubt after tonight's experience. She had touched him "there" and she knew that he was as stirred up as she.

After a glass of ice water, she slipped into the new baby doll that Ted had picked out for her. It was of the prettiest pink she had ever seen, and had more ruffles and lace on it than any garment she owned. He had insisted on replacing the one she had mentioned being stolen. His choice so suited her as she slipped into it, that she easily pretended he was there watching her put it on. She turned around admiring it herself, and acting as though he was leering, remarked both to herself and anyone within hearing "How does it look, lover boy?”

She didn't hear the sigh of satisfaction, that escaped the lips of the one she was addressing, nor did she hear the soft sounds of him removing the black panties she had just hung on the line. He left the pins on the porch and stuffing the still damp panties in his

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