.And what thehell is this?!" he barks shaking me from the mental tug-of-war. He'sholding a rather large cupped bra open to show me. "Your dresser is...ull of girl's clothes, and from the looks of it a big tittied one."Embarrassed, I scowl at him and tug my shirt on before ripping the brafrom his hands and tossing it to the floor. He had opened every one ofmy dressers and made a mess of my clothes. Are they MY clothes? Iremember the dresser, but the clothes remain a mystery. Suddenly, aloud. ‘There still aren’t. I resisted spending my time away from here even a few nights a week until Stan dragged me out by my hair six months ago and it’s taken me this long to really even talk to a woman.’ I stood, stared at him, flipped the chair back around and leaned over the edge of the table as I sat again. ‘Are you telling me that you haven’t dated since college? How long ago was that? Ten years? After I left my old boyfriend, Donny, to take the job here I haven’t dated either and I thought. More

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