“Great. Any idea which store she’d go to?”

“Probably the only one in town that sells that kind of stuff,” Harper said, grinning. “It’s called Tully’s Threads. You can walk there in a few minutes. Just go that way once you get outside and it’ll be on your right near the end of Main Street. Can’t miss it. The sign out front is a big spool of thread. Like the name. Tully’s–”

“Yeah, got it,” I said. “Thanks.”

I followed Harper’s directions. Sure enough, Tully’s Threads was on my right after a couple blocks. Inside, the place was small but cozy. Mannequins wearing formal dresses and gowns lined the windows and the walls were covered in dresses of every style imaginable. There was an older woman browsing tiny dresses for kids who I guessed were probably her grandkids.

Near the back, I saw old west style dressing rooms in open view. A pair of tall swinging doors blocked everything but a pair of pale ankles. I squinted at them, trying to decide if I recognized them as Pearl’s. I saw shorts fall down in a pile around the ankles and the feet stepped out gingerly.

I gave a tight smile to the woman behind the counter, who was staring openly at me. I went to the door of the changing rooms. “Pearl? Is that you?”

“Dean?” her voice came back muffled through the door. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well, you found me. But I’m not exactly decent right now. Can it wait a little bit?”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “I can wait out here until you’re ready.”

“No, thank you,” Pearl said. “I think it would be best for both of us if we tried to keep our distance as much as we can.” She was practically whispering, but her face must’ve been right against the door because I could hear her clear enough.

“Oh,” the woman who worked in the store said, coming up from behind me. “Is that your special someone in there, Sir? Well, don’t just stand out here whispering like a bunch of lovesick puppies. Go on in there and help her decide!” She was smiling big like she was doing us a favor as she urged me through the swinging doors.

A moment later, I was standing in front of Pearl, who was clad in a pair of white cotton panties and a matching bra. She put one hand over her breasts and another in front of the triangle of her panties.

“Ah, Jesus,” I said, trying and failing not to eat up the sight of her body. I turned like I was about to leave but she grabbed my arm, holding me in place.

“How is it going to look if you leave now?” she whispered. “Just turn around and don’t gawk.”

“Yeah, sure.” I put my back to Pearl and listened to the sound of rustling fabric. The image of her in her panties and bra kept flashing in my brain, and it took every bit of self control I had not to turn around, bend her over, and rip those panties off. I’d always enjoyed sex, but thinking about sleeping with Pearl was something entirely different. I didn’t just want the feelings and the sensations–the physical parts. I wanted that connection again.