Dirty Laundry Secret - The Mysterious Red Lace
In my line of work, I tend to see the same thing over and over, and over again. But here’s one day when it was different…
First, what does your underwear say about you? While you think about that, let me tell you what I think.
I think a red lace shows adventure, love, and just someone daring to be different. Black lace, on the other hand, is a classic… It can be labeled as mysterious, but also mixed up with boring.
One day, one of my regulars came in and he always came in with the same suit. Not the same exact suit, but the same kind of suit.
“Good afternoon!” I flashed a smile.
“Good afternoon,” he curled a smile while checking the pockets of his suit, fickling with something in the right pocket. It seemed like he wanted to pull something out, but something stopped him. When he pulled his hand out, there was nothing.
Hmmm… maybe I’m thinking too deep about it.
Anyways, his suits were custom made and tailored from Hong Kong. His cuffs were his initials. The outside of the suit was more firm, but on the inside it was a cool silk.
He walked towards me -- holding the suit -- brushing off the sleeve, “I’d like to get this dry cleaned.” He smirked, nervously, as if he never did this before. Something about him was off, but I didn’t pay any mind.
“How’s the wife!” I smiled, grabbing the clothes from him.
He chuckled and hesitated -- Umm, is this guy OK? I wondered -- “She’s alright,” he said in a small voice. His eyes seemed to shift to that right pocket again, but again, I didn’t say anything. I think I just need some coffee.
He was never much of the talking type. The luxurious suits he’d wear made me think he wanted to seem serious and firm on the outside… but the cool silk that hid inside told me otherwise.
I tried to continue the conversation, but it seemed like he was in a hurry as he cut our weekly-small-talk short. Oh well, I mean, you know us New Yorkers… we’re always in a hurry.
Still, I just had to know: “What are you hiding?” I laughed, inspecting the suit, going through the dry cleaning process.
I thought of his wife. I’ve never seen what the woman looks like but I’d like to think -- from her clothes -- that she was the opposite. She wore Victoria Secret cotton panties, which isn’t a bad choice, but it’s not custom or tailor made from Hong Kong either.
I checked the pockets -- as I routinely do -- and I felt something lace in the right side, and there seemed to be less fabric on the underwear. These are not Victoria Secret cotton panties. “So the plot thickens...,” I whispered followed by a brief pause.
Lo-and-behold I discovered red lace underwear. My mouth dropped as I looked around my store, trying to see if anyone witnessed the same thing I’m witnessing. This couldn’t be his wife’s…. Right? I mean, maybe she wanted to spice it up… Maybe she left it as a surprise for him and maybe he was too embarrassed to take it out? Or… maybe… it wasn’t his wife’s… Maybe?
Yeah, I need that coffee.
I mean, the scenarios going on in my head at this moment are crazy. Maybe this how it went:
[ --- LOCATION: STRIP CLUB --- ]
[ --- MUSIC: WAP - CARDI B FEAT. MEG THEE STALLION, BLASTING --- ]
Husband: F-ck. Today was a rough day at work. Right, Phil?
Phil: Yeah, abso-f--cking-lutely. *lights cigarette*
Husband: *Scoffs, fixes cuffs, flashing his initials* Hey, honey *catches stripper/waitress attention* Can ya get us a round of drinks?
She nods and smiles back. *Husband phone vibrates*
Husband: Oh f-ck.
Phil: What? *puffs smokes*
Husband: It’s my wife. *locks screen, shoves into pocket.*
Phil: Oh f-ck.
Husband: Now I need something stronger… Hey honey! *calls waitress/stripper*
Phil: What you need is to get some *puffs smoke*
Husband: What? *scoffs* no…
Phil: Yes, get some *points to the right* from her.
I snapped back to reality. Nah, no way he could’ve done that.
I returned to the suit. Tracing my fingers along the custom work, my eyes kept shifting to the red lace just inches away from me.
Unless it went like this…
[ —- LOCATION: HOME, lights dimmed— ]
[ MUSIC: None, silence. ]
*Husband enters through front door*
Husband: I’m home *quietly sighs* Work was horrendous, honey…
Husband: *looks around at the dimmed living room* Honey..?
Wife: *appears in red lace bralette and underwear, smirking*
Husband: H-oney?! *mouth open like a gasp*
Wife: Welcome home, dear *says smoothly, walks towards him… three steps later, trips*
Husband: Oh honey, please don’t hurt yourself! *walks to help her up* You’re not as young as you once were *caresses her face, attempting a kiss*
Wife: *shoves hand* Excuse me? What the hell is that supposed to mean? *stands up*
Wife: Forget it. *turns on light, goes upstairs*
Husband: Sigh…. here we go again. *motions to take off suit jacket, receives text from co-worker, Phil*
Phil: I’m f-cking stressed. Meet me in 10 minutes at the usual spot.
Husband: *looks upstairs —looks at phone* On my way.
Dammit, why do I keep thinking this ends up with this guy at a strip club?!
All my imagination took up the time it took to dry clean the suit. It looked as good as new — if I could say so myself — and like nothing… ever … happened… Or I should say, nothing was ever … found.
He picked it up the next day, and I never heard from them again… So there goes one mystery unsolved. Well, it’s like what the people say nowadays -- it is what it is!