I walked by the small shop weekly returning from class.nnMy eyes were always drawn to the windows, filled with delicate lace, satin, cotton and silk lingerie. Exotic looking women would frequent the shop. Men would walk by, looking out of the corner of their eyes, a guilty almost furtive glance. As if they were doing something bad or evil. nnThe women would walk in confident, assured. All the things I felt I wasn't.nnTeaching aerobics at 'For Women Only' twice a week helped my credit balance while I finished collage. Female executives, pampered wives, anyone who could afford the exclusive membership rates and wanted the privacy afforded by the no-males rule were welcome. nnThe neighborhood was one I dreamed of someday being able to afford. For now I settled for window shopping as I walked the several blocks to my bus stop.nnAs the cold fall wind ripped across my face, my hair felt as brittle as ice, still wet from my shower. I slowed as I passed, my eyes drawn to a lavender and black teddy next to a Lycra and Motif chemise on the display figures. I only wore practical cotton, but a woman can dream.nnThen I noticed an antique Russian Samovar, with steam rising, I stopped to look in. China tea sets were set out on a small table with several comfortable looking chairs. I read a sign -Please accept a Hot Tea.nnAnother cold breeze slid down my back, chilling me. Before I realized what I was doing I stepped into the shop. A small alcove with a stained glass door closed off the entrance from the outside world.