The Roommate

Josh preferred living alone but since he switched to teaching part-time (so he could write the great American novel), he could no longer afford his apartment's rent. He had relished being able to walk around half naked, watch what TV shows he wanted, let the dirty dishes build up, keep whatever hours he wanted and be a slob. That was going to change, he realized, if he found a roommate to share the rent.

So he placed an online ad, and posted cards in the laundromat and at the food coop. He said a male or female roommate was fine, as long as they had a job, could afford to make payments and were compatible. Five people came by to see his place (he had cleaned it up) and three said they'd like to do the roommate thing. One seemed too nervous and hyper, so he was out, leaving two.

The first was Ron, in marketing at an online recreational supplies company. An extrovert, he loved sports and being in the great outdoors, was tall and lean, and assumed that Josh would pick him. He wanted to know Josh's decision within three days. Josh figured it could work out with him.

The other finalist was Miranda, younger than Ron, and a recent graduate of a nearby, prestigious woman's college. She'd just started a new job being a personal assistant to a very successful, but old, financial wizard, who published an influential newsletter that went to decisionmakers around the country. Evidently he still had the mojo that kept his opinions in demand. She was his gofer to a degree, but also helped edit his publication.

Miranda was of a fuller figure (some would say Rubenesque) and more sedentary than Ron. Her dark hair was fuzzy and somewhat voluminous and she had a way of walking in her loose clothing that was at once sensuous and cat-like. There was something deep, motherly and comfortable in her aspect. He figured he could get along with Ron quite well in a mano-to-mano way, but Miranda offered something more interesting, and perhaps dangerous. Besides, they both had writing skills. When he told her she was the one, she merely said, "Oh great, I'll move in from my parents' place in a week?"

He helped her move, then. Her parents were a couple of old hippies who had money from the music business, so he knew she wouldn't default on her payments. When moving her, he had the odd sensation that he was performing in the role of her lover or husband, even though she never made any moves or suggestions in that direction.

The first night they were sharing the place, after she'd completed moving into the spare bedroom, she lit a couple incense sticks with his permission, and they shared glasses of red wine. She said, "I hope this works out. It's the first time I've lived outside my parents' home, so I'm a bit apprehensive. I hope we get along OK. You seem like a nice guy. I don't like macho guys, you know, guys that don't treat women well; guys that just want sex and someone to kiss their ass."

"Well, don't worry about me. I just want a roommate I get along with and can help pay the rent. I'm really getting engrossed in my writing now, so as long as I have the space to write, I'll be a happy camper."

And they talked a little about the book he was writing.

She belatedly said, "You should know that I can be moody at times. Don't take that as a reflection on you. It's just the way I am. I tried meds, and didn't like them, so I just live with it and try to keep an even keel. My parents were so understanding and I hope that you'll understand too and put up with me."

Josh instantly felt warning flags going up. Maybe she would flip out and become a burden on him. Maybe her parents were glad to move her out. But he'd made his pick and now he had to try to live with it.

"OK," said Josh. "thanks for being upfront with me. I'm pretty accepting of people, having grown up with two brothers and two sisters, so let's make a go of it and hopefully this arrangement will be a good thing for both of us."

The both retired to their respective bedrooms, sleepy from the wine.

During each of the following days, Miranda filled up her voluminous purse with all sorts of stuff and left early to make her way to the subway to go work with Roger, the financial wizard.

On her fourth day away, Josh didn't have to go to work until 2 p.m., so he made a casual breakfast and set out to do his daily writing routine. But he felt an overwhelming curiosity about Miranda, so he opened the door to her room and walked in. Her bed was only half made, and what was apparently her nightgown was thrown across the blankets. On her dresser was the large mirror he'd helped carry in, and there were whimsical paste-it notes attached to it. Little reminders of things to do, some semi-poetical observations of life, and so on. Then there were the stuffed little dogs, and he figured she must've had pet dogs growing up. Finally, there were some potted plants next to the window that added some lush green to the room. There was also a little scrapbook with photos of her with friends, mostly female, or with family.

One of the dresser drawers was partly open and he noticed something frilly inside. He knew he'd begun to cross the line in terms of violating her privacy, but he couldn't help himself.

For most of his life he'd been very attracted to women's clothing and had even begun to wear some of his mother's lingerie and clothing when he was home alone in his early teens. The experience had been quite erotic and exciting. But she caught him one time and told his father about it (and his siblings learned about it too), and he was shamed and embarrassed. His father especially, being homophobic, admonished him to stay away from feminine clothing because it could make him gay. He didn't really believe him, but the shock of being caught and the guilt had stayed with him. He had stuffed his inclinations somewhere deep into his subconscious for years, where it emerged only during nighttime dreams. Even his brief hookups with women excluded his secret (though sometimes he wondered if he wasn't more attracted to their clothing than them). But now, in Miranda's room, the urge to look and touch came flooding back.

He pulled the drawer with the enticing frilly things out, and was rewarded with a view of many panties, ranging from red, satiny types to sinful thongs to almost-transparent black confections. He loved touching the shiny, elastic material with its lace detailing. He tried to put everything back in its place, and slid the drawer back to its original position. Now that he'd started his foray, he had to check out the other drawers also. One held mostly bras, also of a sexy construction, except for a sports bra. The two large drawers held various panty hose offerings, some socks, several foundation garments, and some tops. There were also two types of vibrators and what seemed to be a strap-on dildo.

On top the dresser were four different perfumes and some makeup bottles. What was beguiling was the faint aroma of perfume permeating everything in and around the dresser.

The next day when she departed, he was back in her room, handling the panties more gingerly, smelling them, and he took the sexiest one and held it against his clothing, wondering if it would fit him. This all felt forbidden and dangerous, and that mixed with his guilt. Still, the compulsion to take this further was strong. He dropped his trousers and shorts, and pulled on the sexy panty, which was of a deep maroon color, low cut, with a lace panel in front. It felt exquisite against his skin as he positioned it in place - it was a bit too large for his slim body - although his mighty erection strained against it. He touched the tip of his cock through the slinky material, and then reached in and rubbed it against the stretchy fabric. He was remembering all the delights of wearing his mother's things, and having tremendous climaxes while playing.

Then he realized that his pre-cum was moistening the front of the panties, and that it would likely leave a little stain there when it dried. So his adventure was cut short as he hand-washed the panty, and dried it and returned it to the drawer before he left for work.

That Saturday night, Miranda left with some female friends for a night out at a concert, and Josh was in bed before she returned home. He woke during the night, hearing voices through the door of his room, but figured it was just her saying goodbye to her pals. The next morning, Sunday, he was up and making breakfast when a strange woman in gray sweats and white cami top emerged from Miranda's room, said "Good morning" in a rather perfunctory way, and made her way to the bathroom. A bit taken aback, he noted her slim, muscular form, short hair, and deliberate, measured steps, and began to piece things together. Quite the opposite of Miranda. Rather masculine. So, maybe that's what the strap-on was for? The whole scene struck him as humorous, and yet he was curious. He would've loved to see them in bed.

When Miranda finally emerged, sleepy, with hair mussed, she introduced him to Stevie and he proceeded to make breakfast for them all. They sat down at the dining room table, drank their orange juice, and the two talked about the concert.

Josh couldn't resist asking how long they'd known each other. "Oh, we'd seen each other around for a long time," said Miranda, "so I guess it was just a matter of time before we bedded each other." She and Stevie chuckled a little.

"What do you do, Stevie?" asked Josh.

"Landscaping, mostly," was the succinct reply.

Stevie eventually left by herself after a big hug and kiss from Miranda and she began to straighten up her room. Josh imagined her stowing the strap-on in its proper drawer. It was interesting, he thought, about the way people dovetailed together with their quite-different personalities. He wondered if Miranda was thoroughly gay, or bi. Somehow, being this close to a gay couple turned him on. Was Miranda at all attracted to men?

Miranda proposed going out to a nearby bistro for dinner that night - a first - and they decided that he'd pay the evening's tab, with her catching it the next time. The place was darkish and subdued, and only a third full when they arrived. She seemed in a fine mood, and they both ordered wine. She ate vegetarian - he liked it when a woman had a good appetite - and he ordered a curry dish. They talked about politics, the book she was reading, movies they'd seen and the progress he was making on his own book.

From time to time he stole a glance down her neckline, which offered a tantalizing glimpse of ample breasts.

Towards the end of the meal, when they were on their second glasses of wine, she said, "Josh, sorry to be so direct, but I've got to ask you something."

Josh wondered what. He was in a pretty good mood too.

"Well, have you been in my room?"

"Well, yeah, I wanted to check out your plants." He was beginning to sweat.

"I mean, more directly, were you poking around in my dresser, like in my panty drawer?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, even though it may look messy, everything in there has its place, and a couple days after I moved in, I would've sworn that things had been disturbed. So what I did was, just before I left for work the next day, I put a little slip of paper below the drawer, so that if it was pulled out, the slip would fall on the floor. And it did."

She continued, leaning forward, and looking into his eyes intensely, "I'm not angry or anything, but this is something you did. Why were you going through my stuff - curiosity, fetish, or what? Did you wear anything of mine?"

Josh had to look away for a while, and gulped.