After dinner, Kimberly returns to her bedroom, her thoughts a tireless storm. She's aware of just how much Wiz's eyes had been on her and she's beginning to think Wiz wants to fuck her. The warmth of the chilly had done little to eliminate the chill that crawled all throughout her skin. She needs to relax, to wash the day away. She fills her bathtub with steaming hot water, the sound of it vibrating throughout the quiet house. The bathroom is her sanctuary, the one place she can truly be naked without fear of judgment or unwelcome gazes. She strips out of her clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. The warm water swallowing her as she sinks in, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as she closes her eyes shut, allowing the tension to seep out her. The scent of lavender lulls her into relaxation, a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves.
As she lies there, the silence is a stark contrast to the war going on in her mind. Rachel's voice in her head, Wiz's words from dinner, the memory of her husband's touch, it's all a jumble of pain and longing. She tightens her eyes shut, trying to focus on the calming podcast playing through her headphones. But it puts up no fight to the siren call of the man under her own roof.
Meanwhile, Wiz can't help but listen to the sound of the running water, the image of Kimberly in the tub invading his thoughts. A smile plays on his lips as she is doing exactly what he suggested days ago. His curiosity about her deepens, and he wonders what secrets she's hiding beneath that tough exterior. He tells himself it's just a fantasy, but the way he has positioned her like prey is something he couldn't help but bask in.
The next day, as the sound of Kimberly's car fades into the distance as she heads for work, Wiz takes a deep breath, the house feeling eerily quiet. The walls seem to close in on him, the weight of his confinement weighing on him. He decides to explore, to find a small piece of freedom amidst the suffocation. He wanders into Kimberly's bedroom, the space seeming calling his name. He opens drawers, his eyes scanning her clothes, her perfumes, looking for a piece of her soul.
In the depths of Kimberly's dresser, Wiz discovers a treasure trove of intimate garments, a kaleidoscope of fabrics and colors that hint at a woman with a intimate side she rarely shows. His eyes land on a small, wooden box, tucked away beneath a pile of neatly folded lace panties. His heart quickens as he opens it, revealing a time capsule of happier days. He slowly thumbed through the photos of Kimberly and her husband, their faces exuding youth and love. He sneers, feeling a strange sense of victory as he looks at her husband who is no longer around.
Wiz's eyes linger on Kimberly's wedding picture, a smirk coming over him. He can't help but mumble, "You're not as heartless as you like to pretend, are you?" His voice is barely a whisper, but it feels as if he's speaking directly to her. He sets the box down, his gaze lingering on the images of her past life before he continues going through the remaining contents of the drawer, his hands lingering over the soft fabrics. He selects a pair of panties, slipping them into his pocket with a sense of lust, a tangible piece of her that he can bring back to his room.
As the day wears on, Wiz becomes increasingly restless. He tries to ignore Kimberly's bedroom calling him back, but it's like a magnet pulling him. He finds himself pacing the hallway, his eyes drawn to the closed door. His thoughts are a maelstrom of desire and lust, his mind racing with ideas of how to break down Kimberly's walls.
Later, as the house sighs with the quiet of early evening, Wiz explores Kimberly's bathroom. The space feels almost sacred, filled with the scent of her soap and shampoo, for a second he could even imagine the scent of her pussy. He finds himself drawn to the vanity, where her things are neatly arranged. His hand hovers over a pair of her dirty lacy underwear, a soft pink pair she had likely been wearing before she took a bath the previous night. He can't resist the urge to hold them, to feel the soft fabric against his skin. He brings them to his face, inhaling deeply.
With a mix of excitement and anxiety, Wiz locks the bathroom door behind him. He's found a piece of Kimberly she's left behind, and the smell of it is intoxicating. He sits on the edge of the tub, her panties in hand. His thoughts swirl with images of her, of what she might have been feeling when she wore them. He can't help himself as he brings the fabric to his nose, inhaling her scent once again. It sends electricity through him, and before he knows it, his hand is moving down to his crotch, his arousal growing.
The sound of the key turning in the lock of the front door jolts him back to reality. Kimberly's home early! He hastily shoves the panties into his pocket and jumps to his feet. His heart races as he makes his way to his room just down the hall.
She steps into the house, the cool evening air releasing from around her skin. As she wades through the kitchen and living room she notices the door to her bedroom is open. She's sure she left it closed and can't shake the feeling that something's off.
Kimberly sets her keys on the coffee table, her eyes scanning the living room. Everything seems in place, but the quiet feels...heavier somehow. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to let it go. It's just the stress of having Wiz under her roof, she tells herself. But the nagging feeling persists as she remembers she had not left the door to her room open.
She calls out, "Wiz, I'm home!" There's no response, just the faint sound of the TV from his room. She sighs, trying to shake off the unease building up within her. She heads to the fridge, grabs a bottle of water, and pads down the hallway. As she passes the open door of her bedroom, she glances in, catching sight of the slightly open drawer. Her stomach drops.
She walks in, her eyes analyzing the room. Everything else seems undisturbed, but the feeling of invasion is unshakeable. She approaches the dresser, her hand shaking as she opens the drawer further. The wooden box sits slightly askew, a glaring testament to the fact that someone's been going through her drawer. She slams it shut, the sound echoing through the house.
"How dare he?" she thinks, anger pulsing in her veins. She darts across her room and into the hallway, her fists clenched. "Wiz! Get out here now!"
Startled, Wiz quickly hides the panties under his pillow and scurries out of his room, his expression a mask of innocence. "Hey, Mrs. Thomas," he says casually, leaning against the doorframe. "What's up?"
She glares at him, her voice dripping with anger. "My bedroom drawer was open. Did you go through my things?" Her eyes bore into his, searching for an admission of guilt.
He raises an eyebrow, exuding confusion. "Your drawer? No, I've been in my room all day. Why would I go through your stuff?" His tone is smooth, but that same little smirk playing on his lips gives him away.
