Once upon a time there was a little gusset who lived in an old pair of knickers tucked away, far, far away, at the bottom of an undies high-rise. This little gusset, she had once lived the high life: parties, clubs, raves, gala openings and private views. She had been swung about by a big beautiful bottom, pressed happily against warm luscious lips, drunk many a drug-drenched, sweaty concoction and been transported to a world of heightened ecstasy. She had experienced union, a knowing and understanding of another, one that is born of an intimate caring from both parties—something like unconditional love. Her girl was fiercely protective, nurtured her with gentle washing cycles, a dash of expensive perfume and a consistent inclusion on all special occasions.

It was when she was worn she was happiest of all.

The little gusset, never in her wildest dreams did she ever expect desertion. One rarely does in one’s youth and childish innocence. Life was, after all, like liquorice dipped in a fountain with strawberry scented air, and the little gusset had no reason in her reasonable experience to expect anything other. But things took a turn for the worst; one day, for no apparent reason, no reason at all, her girl just ceased to be there. No one seemed to know where she’d gone, however pressed, or when she’d return, if at all.

The little gusset became extremely sad. She withdrew into a world of her own and burrowed deep down deep into the depths of her underwear drawer. All the other gussets came and went, got about their business as if nothing were different. She was invited to play with Frill and Spot. And she tried. She did. But it never seemed to be too much fun.

The little gusset, she developed a violent streak, more as an escape from her pain than anything else, and set about lumping the gayer gussets among them. Just because she could.

Years passed.

The little gusset grew up.

And one day a strange and rather foreign pair of pants appeared and everybody’s attention was lighted upon them—for they were the Pants of a Man. All kinds of everyone vied for his attention and he certainly took a good look around but it was the little gusset, shyly beautiful all of a sudden, in a well used but coddled kind of a way, that knocked him out with her pheromone punch. Their relationship was wildly physical, passionate, risqué. The little gusset became once more happy.

And she stayed happy for quite some time.

The thing was, she didn’t know just how lucky she was.

To be happy

for some time