Ever since my first day back at Christmas, I have absolutely been in love with wearing Myka's clothes. On that first day, she gave me a pair of her flannel pyjamas to wear. The legs were so long that I needed to roll up the cuffs. Granted the wearing pyjamas aspect of our relationship is essentially void at this point, but I still keep borrowing (or wearing) my beloved's clothes. Over three months later, I own one pair of jeans and one pair of trousers as well as a handful of unmentionables. Everything else, belongs to Myka.

I think she might be getting annoyed with it.

Regardless, she says nothing. I merely keep helping myself to her shirts, socks and exercise outfits. Or maybe she doesn't mind.

One day where we're working in separate locations (me at the Warehouse with the Regents, she at the inn with Artie looking at some documents), I am surprised by a chime from my mobile. I look down at the screen and see a photo of Myka peering back at me, a photo I took of her sitting on a bench in Boston looking out at the Harbor, with informing me to make my way back home. Strange, I have no idea why she would ask me to come back in the middle of the workday. I inform my fellow Regents that I need to attend to a prior commitment.

It's good to be in cahoots with the Regents: no questions asked.

Heading out the Umbilicus, I make my way towards our car parked near the entrance. I make the seven-mile drive in about ten minutes, hastily parking and getting out.

"Hello!" I shout as I open the front door.

No one replies. The entire place is quiet.

I walk upstairs to our room, open the door and find Myka switching off the bathroom light. The room is slightly dark, only lit by the light emanating from between the blinds. I toss my jacket onto the chair by the bed to move towards her.

"You need to stop stealing my clothes." She says as she wanders out of the bathroom towards me. Myka has a towel draped around her, looking as though she has just got out of the shower and as if she is going to eat me alive.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it had become a problem."

"Oh, it is."

She removes her towel to expose the harness and strap-on with which I am permitted to pleasure her. It's hers, strictly for her gratification.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Maybe so."

Pushing me down on the bed, Myka makes quick work of my boots and trousers, tossing the shoes to the corner of the room and unzipping my jeans. My mind is racing as she hooks her fingers beneath the elastic of my knickers, enthusiastically leaving me before her in nothing but my tank top. The devilish smile on her lips leaves me little to imagine when she is poised above me. She rests her weight on one side with her hand propping herself up.

She is above me, kissing me, pressing against my thigh with the dildo. I have seen Myka take charge before, but nothing like this. As far as I know, Myka has never done this before, at least not with this particular apparatus. It was a spur-of-the-moment purchase when we were on vacation last month, something that we both wanted to try and, subsequently, discovered she thoroughly enjoys me taking her that way. Her gestures and movements are loving; however, carefully planned. The hand is that now free wanders between my legs, teasing my entrance trying to determine how wet I am. I can certainly feel it, I've felt it since the moment I saw Myka wearing only the strap-on. She dips her fingers into me, pleased to find me ready and lubricates the dildo with my spendings.

When she enters me, I cling my hands to her hips and bottom, and writhe in euphoria beneath her.

"Truthfully," I manage to pant out once we lay spent in each other's arms, "I don't mind it if you wear my things."