The Pajama Game

Story Submitted by William:

I took Stella out to dinner and to a pool hall.  She asked me a lot about myself, seemed genuinely interested, and made me laugh at least a dozen times.  It was my understanding that we had a great time with each other, and that things were progressing normally.

As we prepared to go back to our respective cars, she went in for a kiss, and I gladly went in for it.  Then, she asked, "Could I borrow a pair of your pajamas?"

"My pajamas?  What for?"

She said, "I think I'd like to cuddle with them tonight.  Is that weird?"

It wasn't too strange, as I had dated people in the past with whom I'd traded clothes.  Still, asking for pajamas on a first date was a little... different.

Still, everything else had gone well, and I liked her enough to tell her that I'd be glad to bring her a pair.  She followed me to my house, I ran in, grabbed a clean pair, gave them to her, we kissed goodnight again, and she drove away.

I called her the next day to say hi and left a voicemail.  She called me back that night.  It was a good conversation until she said, "Hey, do you think I could swap your pajamas back for another pair?"

I asked, "What's wrong with the ones I gave you?"

She said, "Nothing.  They're just... I just wanted a fresh pair."

I said, "Sure.  You want to come by to watch a movie later on, and then you can grab them?"

"Okay."

She showed up to my house that evening with my pajamas and said, "Hey, I don't have time to stay.  You have those new pajamas for me?"

I said, "I do.  Is everything okay?"

She explained that she had accidentally double-booked herself for the night, but that she'd make it up to me on our next date.  So saying, she handed me the first set of pajamas and took the second set (a pair I really liked).  She thanked me, kissed me, and left.

I noticed a strange aroma coming from the pajamas that she had returned.  They smelled like a combination of oil, ass, and Febreze.

I threw them in the wash, resolving to not share any of my pajamas with her again.

I didn't mention anything about it until our next date, when, in the middle of it, during a walk, I asked her if I could have my second pair of pajamas back.

"Why?" she asked, the mood instantly darkening.

I made something up about it being a little too soon to trade clothes.

She said, "I'm busy with them.  I snuggle with them."

I said, "That's fine.  Maybe I could give you an undershirt or–"

"An undershirt?  What the fuck?  All of a sudden I'm just worth an old undershirt?"

I sighed.  This was going downhill in a big hurry.  "I just want those pajamas back."

That killed the date.  She said, "Fine."

There were no goodnight kisses, and the next morning, I woke up to find my pajamas in a crumpled ball on my front porch.

They smelled truly awful, like they had been used to clean an entire third-world country's worth of latrines.