A/N: Am in search of good ending that does not end in suicide. Please help. Also, R/R.

The Underwear

So incredibly hot. She sat scantily clad on the four poster bed in hopes of not only arousing her mate, but of cooling down as well. Though cooling down was not the main objective for her that night. That's what fans and air conditioning systems were there for. She was there for no other reason that to steam the small bedroom up.

She had been out of town for quite some time now, several weeks, and her lover knew nothing of her early return that clear June afternoon. She had stayed long enough on this business trip to do an excess of work, more than was expected of anyone else at the conference and then some because of the premature departure, and even took a few hours one night for a shopping spree in the local shops, looking for something to entice her lover when he found her earlier than expected.

He had been wonderful about her leaving; knowing it was to better her career and understanding that although they would miss each other terribly it was for the best. He called her every evening once they were both home from work and delivered sweet remarks left right and center, sounding absolutely miserable. She assured him that they would make up for last time when she got back, and to try and concentrate on his work. She said it as though she missed him, of course, but had other things on her mind. Which was completely untrue. She cried several nights in a row, when she would awake in the middle of the night and turn over, expecting to find her lover to cuddle to, and finding his absence heartbreaking.

They had been together for several months, closing in on a year, and since they got together could hardly be separated. This trip was a big test of their relationship and she expected them both to pas it with flying colors. She had never felt this strongly about anyone before, and had never been happier in her life than the time spent in his heart.

She wandered gleefully through the aisles of each store, looking for that perfect seductive garment that would make his eyes pop out of his head, and other things spring to attention elsewhere. At first she picked up an incredibly alluring black lace bra, which accentuated her not too big but certainly existent breasts, and found the matching panties; equally lacy, but almost too much. She put them both back and decided to come back if nothing else presented itself.

She flitted about all afternoon, from one store to another, searching desperately for those perfect undergarments. She tried on things of all different colors and patterns and materials; satin animal prints in snake, leopard, and zebra; lacy things in every color of the rainbow; simple yet classically elegant cotton things. But nothing screamed, "I'm perfect!"

She hit her last store of the day, a tiny shop at the end of the street, convinced she'd have better luck tomorrow. She began to search lazily through the racks, not expecting to find anything extravagantly wondrous here. She'd just picked up several things to try on for the fun of it, when she looked towards an open door in the back.

Her jaw dropped, and so did all of the items she was holding.

Just through a tiny crack in the door, she saw hanging the most beautiful corset ever imagined. It was a deep red color, not flashy bright red lost most, but darker, almost purple, like to color of a pool of blood. It laced in the front with a black ribbon and had the classic corset hook-and-eyes all up the back. It had black lace trim over the top and along the bottom. She moved closer, and found it had matching panties (the opposite of the corset, black with the deep red lace along its borders), and hanging next to those a stunning pair of thigh-high hose, simple and black with lacy ruffles at the elastic on the top, that went with it perfectly.

She looked around, frantically trying to find a sales person to ask how much it was. She went towards the doorway where the magnificent underwear was hanging and saw a man leaning back in his chair, reading, with his feet on a desk. She cleared her throat and he looked up and gave her a warm smile.

"How can I help you?" he asked, getting up and walking towards her.

"I was wondering how much all of this cost together" she said, gesturing towards the corset and its accessories. He looked at her for a moment, then glanced at the underwear and said quietly "How much are you willing to pay for it?"

She pulled out her wallet and quickly counted her cash. $200 even. "I have two hundred with me. That wouldn't happen to be enough, would it?" she asked, hoping she'd picked up some Jedi mind tricks from watching star wars in the hotel last night. He had been examining her body while she counted, and was focused intently on her cleavage. She was wearing a simple button up shirt, and to keep it easy to remove when trying things on, had it buttoned one too few to be decent. She fidgeted with it, trying to cover up when she discovered him staring.

"How about, your two hundred, but you try it on and I get to, er . . . see how it fits you," he said in a greasy sort of voice that made her shudder on the inside (not in the good way).

"How about I get another fifty from the ATM across the street and I just take it." She smiled.

He sighed and agreed, and she was soon back at the hotel, marveling at her reflection. Her curves were curvier than ever, her breasts nearly popping out of the top, but in a sexy way, and the hose weren't too tight at the top, and left no ugly red marks from the elastic.

So there she sat, in this marvelous get up, stiletto heels still on in porn star-like fashion, waiting for her beloved to enter. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like. He'd walk in, drop his keys on the table by the door, and probably get something to drink since it was so hot. He'd want to call her as soon as he got home, because of the time difference she'd already be back at the hotel and waiting for him, so he'd then quickly stride to the bedroom and open the door. If there was a drink in his hand, he'd drop it (she hoped it would be water) and probably jump a bit or say something in surprise (i.e. "Oh my God!", "Holy Shit!" etc.). She'd smile and say something seductive and witty, like "So I take it you don't mind me showing up in your bedroom half naked?" and giggle, and he'd smile. Pleasurable mayhem would then ensue.

She opened her eyes to hear the jingling of keys and smiled excitedly, knowing he was home. She clasped her hands over her mouth to keep from giggling. She heard the keys clang down on the table, and then footsteps towards the bedroom. They stopped outside the closed door, and she waited curiously to see why. She felt the curiosity grow when he seemed to be having trouble with the doorknob. She decided she'd just surprise him at the door way and leapt silently up and struck a sexy pose before twisting the doorknob to reveal her lover was having such trouble opening the door because he was carrying something.


A beautiful girl who had just shed her tiny tank top as the door had opened. They were in mid kiss. She froze, and almost immediately tears were welling up in her eyes.

"How could you . . . how dare you . . ."

Her lover put the unknown girl down and she excused herself, giving him an evil look as she put her shirt on, slamming the front door behind her, yelling something about lying being bad enough, but the form of lying that is cheating is not excusable.

She had gone to the bathroom to put her clothes back on, her boring underwear, her white cotton bra and matching thong. She put on her t-shirt and jeans and picked up the beautiful red corset, underwear, and stockings. She looked at them for a long time through the blurred teary vision, and then set them down, neatly, on his bed. He had gone to the kitchen and sat down miserably. She dried her eyes and wiped away the melting eye make up that was running down her face. She walked out of the bedroom, leaving the underwear behind, as if this hadn't fazed her at all, and she left. She left and did not say a word to him; that day and never planned to again.

She didn't return his phone calls, and in fact deleted all messages from him as soon as she knew they were his. She actually took no phone calls at all. She deleted his e-mails, begging and pleading for her to talk to him, and walked around the next few days in a numb haze. She didn't eat, slept for an hour, maybe two at a time, but always woke up, feeling as if she could dry, but no tears would come. When she finally could stand to look at food, she ate all sugary or sweet things in the apartment and called in sick to work for the next week. She was supposed to be out anyway, away on business. She went out that day and rented movies, gushy romantic movies that reminded her of him, so she could cry and be done with it. But no tears fell.

She called him one day. He answered and began to sob about how stupid he was, and she listened patiently, not saying a word. After ten minutes of his sniffling excuses and this and that, she simply said "Would you please bring the underwear I left to my apartment? Don't bother thinking about staying to come in and give it to me personally, or wanting to talk to me. There's nothing to talk about. Just bring it by, set it on my mat, ring the bell, and walk away." And she hung up.