I took it from the hanger and let the soft, flowing fabric sift through my fingers.The hair on the back of my neck stood up and my heart flew into my ...hroat. I had worn pairs of her panties before, but that was about pleasure, about getting off and having something, anything of a woman’s nearby. But I couldn’t wear a skirt. Could I? I wanted to. Why did I want to?My eyes flickered to the corner, where a pile of old clothes had fallen forgotten behind the hanging things. The fuzzy, soft pink. "Oh, Jesus Christ..." he whispered, throwing himself on the bed. He had to do something; aunt Sonia was driving him nuts.The phone rang, and Raju grabbed it, his thoughts disturbed."Hey, Raju...I might get late at Uncle Kumar's place...might have to come in the morning tomorrow," his mother's voice through the earpiece."Ok, mom, I'll ask aunt Sonia to fix me something," he said."Have fun and see ya tomorrow," he said, ending the call.He had very little choice; Raju masturbated over and over. He. Wesley had never talked like that in his life. As least as far as Beverly knew he hadn't. He'd made Deanna into a slut, turned a deeply caring friend of hers and his into nothing more than a holodeck porn star. How could her boy, the innocent, quiet, genius, peacefully sleeping in the other room, have...she roiled with disgust as she considered what she'd seen. And worst of all, was that he'd made his slut call herself mommy. Beverly wondered if, after all she had done, Wesley preferred his. His spy gave him the information. The small app he had planted on the phone of an informant then spread to the phone of her inventor. The man who kept tabs on things. He still didn’t know the man’s name, but he saw every text that the man sent.“Meeting, tonight. Corner one block north of previous event. Meet Andersen 10pm,” the text read.“What’s the meeting about?” came the reply from the cat.“411,” it read.Conner Andersen stood on the brink. He’d sell out Griggs that night. He’d be dead my.