Underneath My Clothes

He calls me on Tuesday afternoon as I’m driving home from work. “What are you wearing right now?”

This is a new one. “A purple sweater, brown pants, brown boots.”

“What about underneath?” he presses, sounding a little annoyed, as though I should’ve just skipped right to this part in the first place.

“A pink bra and pink panties.”

“Matching today, huh? But you’re not wearing a thong, right?” David never cared for thongs, always wanted me to wear regular bikini-type panties for him.

“No,” I reassure him. “Pink boy shorts. Low-riders.”

I hear him exhale shakily. “Ohhhh,” he murmurs. “I love those little boy-cut panties. They are so sexy.”

Later that afternoon, a new text message appears on my cell phone.

Pretty in pink. Mmmm...