My eyes locked on to her closet.
Blouses and dresses and shoes lined the racks and shelves. I pulled open a drawer. Lacy bras and panties in every color. What would it be like to wear them? What would it be like to step into her life, to accept and embrace and become?
I had to know. I had wished for this. I had gotten my wish.
I picked up a pink bra with matching panties, feeling the silkiness between my fingers.
“God, I’m such a creep.”
Who was I to be using this innocent woman's body like this? I had nothing to say for myself. Perhaps I was a monster. Perhaps my guilt was the only thing that reminded me I was human. I watched my hands move against the lacy lingerie, watched them glide over the satin.
I had thought about women's bodies before—what man hadn't?—but never like this. Never with this level of access, this freedom to explore without judgment or consequence.
Except there were consequences, weren't there? My family. My life. Everything I had built and cherished was on the other side of that fence.
I slipped the bra around Maggie’s torso, fumbling with the clasp. Was this how it worked? I adjusted the straps, pulling them over her—my—shoulders. It fit perfectly.
The panties were easier, sliding up and over Maggie’s hips with a silky whisper. I felt breathless with the joy of it, the thrill, the wrongness.
I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, feeling the way they hugged my legs, the way they accentuated Maggie’s shape, all softness and curve. I wanted to see how it looked, wanted to know what it felt like to look at me now, if I really looked the way she did.
I put on a thin, fitted T-shirt, brushing out my hair with quick, excited strokes.
"This is insane," I whispered, but I couldn't look away.
The image in the mirror looked like Maggie, like her casual style. How could someone liker take this body for granted?
The answer was clear: she’d lived with it for thirty years. Of course she took it for granted. That was the point. But now that it was mine, how could I take it for granted, too? I let myself twirl in front of the mirror, watching the way the clothes moved, the way the body moved.
The baby's cry pierced the moment, shattering my trance. I jumped, suddenly aware of how deeply I had fallen into this exploration.
"Coming, Alvin," I called, my voice still strange to my ears.
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