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Growing up I lived next to a woman named Norma. She seemed to have it all. She was beautiful, had a husband who was a well-known doctor, and cute kids. At first I thought I was attracted to her, but as I spent more time around her, I realized that I wanted to be her. I loved her sense of dress and the way she gracefully moved around and her kindness. She would hire me to housesit when her family was away and of course I would take every chance I got to explore her room. For someone who dressed so well she had the most basic bras and panties that I would try on. It was so thrilling, but then I had a new feeling. One time I sat on her bed in her underwear and started to wonder what it was like in the room when her husband saw her in this clothing. The thought scared me at first, but then I started to embrace it.
Years later I saw how her “perfect” life fell apart. Her husband was a serial cheater who had abused her and his lawyers made short work on her in the divorce settlement. Her children sided with the ex-husband and don’t really talk to her anymore. Yet even without the picture perfect family and all the money, she is still the most beautiful woman I know in her 60’s who carries herself with dignity and a smile for everyone. I so badly want to tell her why I liked spending so much time with her and ask her for help with dressing, but I am so scared. She makes me want to be myself with her, but I don’t know what I would do with the rejection.
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