“Hey, Timmy,” I greeted him with a laugh, clapping him on the back as he hugged me tight. “How’s it going?”“Did Aunt Linda come with you? ...re Bobby and Lydia here too?” The young boy asked with the demanding nature only an 8 year old could get away with.“No, they’re at home, baby,” Rachel assured her son with a gentle laugh, prying him loose from me. “Uncle Dick is here to redo our living room.”“Good,” Timmy nodded. “I want to help.”“I’m sure you’d be a great help, Timmy,” I assured him with. She reaches past me andtakes a craft knife from the desk. The razor sharp blade dances in herhands before slicing through the tape holding the box closed; Miss likesedge play, I find it scarily fascinating but I'm a sissy. She pulls out the bag and there it is. The white lace trim, the blackbridal satin. She lays it out on the bed and I watch the light play onthe fabric as Miss fusses in my wardrobe for a set of petticoats I keepin there. She points to the floor in front of her and. More

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