Caught in her Lingerie #1

Chapter 1 Marilyn

She must know I’m coming, but there she is anyway, framed in the heavy molding of the open doorway.

One leg straight out as she sits on the bed, fastening the garter clip on the other.

Brilliant red heels on. They should be too much for a woman her age, but she oozes allure, and the stilettos only make her look better.

It’s hard to believe this is the woman I’ve known almost my entire life.

The garter straps curve along the underside of her leg before disappearing beneath the lacy edge of her panties.

They’re just visible beneath the sheer petticoat she wears, her skirt floating atop it, both pulled up high enough to give me a clear view of, well, everything.

I drink it in: the sheer balloon sleeves, the frills and ruffles along the skirt, the tiny white ribbons that fasten her gloves shut.

She’s a picture of old-fashioned beauty, riding the line somewhere between aging debutante and pinup centerfold.

“Sorry to bother you, Marilyn,” I say softly, knocking on the open door to announce myself.

If she’s surprised to see me, she does a masterful job hiding it. “James,” she says, drawing out the s between carmine lips.

She sets her foot on the floor, tucking her stocking-covered knees together and making a show of drawing her skirts over her thighs.

Slender hands with matching red nails smooth the silk crepe out as she throws her shoulders back and her considerable chest forwards.

It’s only then that she actually turns to look at me.

“I hope I’m not early,” I say. My throat is suddenly very, very dry. “I saw the note on the door downstairs and let myself in.”

“Good boy,” she says. “You’re not early at all. I was just about to head out for my ladies’ group, but I’m glad you caught me before I did.” She gives me a smile that’s either knowing or simply bemused, then rises from the bed and clicks across the room to me. “Shall I show you to your room?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” I say.

And then I make the mistake that will screw up the rest of my life.

It isn’t really my fault — Marilyn has left the drawer open.

Later I’ll wonder if she did it on purpose.

If all this has been an elaborate trap for what she has planned for me.

But between her lingerie and the scent of her perfume and what I see, I’m not exactly thinking straight.

The nightstand in the corner — the one that looks like it walked right out of an enchanted French chateau — is open, the late afternoon sunlight making every pair of sheer panties and frilly thongs glow.

I can’t stop myself staring at it. Pinks and blues and pale yellows.

Soft fabrics, garments I don’t even know the names of despite being more well-versed in lingerie than your average guy.

“Are you coming, James, dear?” I snap out of it and my eyes shift back to her. She still has that smile. “See something you like?”

“Oh, uh, you have a beautiful home.”

“Very kind of you to say. I figured if I was going to settle down, I might as well make it a place that reflected me and my... desires.”

I’d grown up visiting Marilyn. She was a family friend of my mother’s or something, always jaunting off to some exotic locale or dining with royalty in the Swiss Alps or taking the Orient Express to the far-flung parts of the world.

I never understood how they knew each other.

But even if she was older than my parents, I never really saw her as old.

Experienced and elegant. Knowledgeable. The kind of woman who knows exactly what she wants and precisely how she’s going to get it.

“You’ll be here for the duration,” she said, pushing open the door with her hip and sending her skirts rustling. I tried to ignore them.

“I really appreciate you putting me up,” I said, dropping my bag on the bed. “I hope I won’t be a bother.”

“Really, James, it’s simply wonderful to have you.

I know you boys must go sow your wild oats or whatever, but you’ve always had a place here.

I’m glad you’re finally here to take it.

” She checked the glittering silver watch on her slender wrist. “I hate to say hello and dash out on you, but the girls are expecting me. Do you think you can manage?”

I give her a grin and try not to let my thoughts wander to what’s in the room next door.

“I know how to take care of myself.”