...thefabrics so soft, the lace so gentle. He caressed the underwear againsthis cheek, his skin. It felt so marvellous, so much nicer than thehorrible...boy clothes he had to wear. He wished he could wear the clothesall over, be wrapped in silk and satin. He didn't understand what washappening.Memories merged with the dream and he was older now, about ten, stillwearing his mother's underwear whenever he could. He was careful, nevercaught, and he sometimes wished she knew, that she sat him down. When I got to high school, Danielle had already graduated and was going to some school where they taught women how to type and take dictation and stuff. Mom had taught her how to cook, but I'm glad I didn't have to eat what she cooked very often. She wasn't very good at it. I felt sorry for the poor slob she married. He'd probably starve to death.By the time I turned fifteen, I was definitely interested in girls. Mom taught me how to dance, even before they made us take dance lessons in PE last. More

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