In the front of my closet were my uniforms and street clothes, typical of a man my age that left nothing to be suspicious of upon first glance. Without needing to tell him, Silas tugged the string light on overhead and shoved his hand between hangers, dragging them along the bar until they were shoved to the side. He did that once more before pausing again, reaching the long coat I kept in the back to separate my ‘normal’ clothes from everything else.
Pushing that out of the way as well, all that was left were the lingerie sets I kept hung on silk hangers, all of them clipped with enough care not to damage any of the fabric while they waited for their turn out from the recesses of my closet.
There weren’t many occasions I got to whip them out outside of retrying them all on in the wee hours of the morning while the rest of my family was fast asleep. Coming into this small town, I had yet to check out the gay scene or if there was even one to begin with. No doubt once I did, I’d be dealing with the closeted fifty-something’s down at the country club, trying to sneak behind their wives backs.
Silas grabbed the first one, fishing it out and holding it up in the light. Dark navy, a garter and panty set that was mostly silk fabric with lace touches around the edges. Small crystals were woven along the garter’s straps, a set of stockings I’d found to match them from another artisan were draped over the bar that held the panties clipped with the garter.
It was a nice set, one of my first, actually. It did fantastic with accentuating my thinner waist and fuller thighs. I’d gotten plenty of compliments on it over the years on the rare occasions I actually found myself at one of the gay bars and let myself be taken home.
It would look even better with my waist chains.
“Terran.”
I sat up slowly, fear trickling through the surge of lust flowing through my veins. “Silas.”
In the blink of an eye, he was at the edge of my bed again, tossing the set down next to me and then shoving me back until I was lying down again. I gasped the second he crawled on top of me, trapping me with one hand on my chest and the other wrapping around my throat.
A stab of panic washed over me, cutting through whatever palpable energy I thought was flowing between us that was apparently, so far off from what I originally thought.
His hand was tight around my throat, contrasting completely with the softness of his voice. “Friday. You’re wearing this out to dinner.”
Holy shit.
“J-just this?”
He squeezed, earning himself a soft moan. “Come with something over it so I can enjoy peeling it off you.”
Holy fucking shit.
He was into this.
Silas let go of me then, leaving the set next to me before straightening up and running a few quick strokes along his overcoat to smooth it out. Not a damn hair was out of place on his head, his composure regained in the blink of an eye, unlike me who was left an absolute mess on the bed still.
“Friday,” he said again.
I nodded, ghosting a touch over where he’d held me down.
Oh, I wanted him so damn bad.
Fuck my recovery plan.
“Friday.”
Without another word, he spun on his heel and headed out of my room. I listened for the slam of my back door and the sound of his expensive car roaring to life through the thin walls of my house, grinning the second the vehicle peeled out of my driveway and onto the main road.
He’d asked me on a fucking date.
“Terran!” Amelia’s voice called through the house. “Who the hell was that?”
Oh fuck.
Springing up from my bed, I quickly picked the lingerie set up and shoved it back into my closet before pulling all of my clothes back in place. Amelia’s heavy stomping sent panic racing through my system as I ripped a pair of sweats up from my floor and wrestled them onto my body.
Right as I slipped them over my hips, my entire body tilted to the side, completely shifting off of its axis and dumping me to the ground in a heap.
Amelia appeared in my doorway within seconds, her little mini me giggling loudly from down the hall somewhere.
“What are you doing?” she asked, bewildered.
