You were a poor screen writer working with Norma Desmond a fading old Hollywood star on a film trying to give her a return to the silver screen. She was eccentric and her movie script made no sense but she was rich...She insisted you stay with her in her old beautiful mansion on Sunset Blvd and she was terribly beautiful even now in her mid forties.

She kept her petite figure and long glossy dark hair and ruby lips and catlike eyes...She was difficult to work with sometimes...demanding and moody buy she seemed to be developing a huge soft spot for you. You were just a writer but she was now acting like you were a new little boyfriend or sugar baby to keep her company.

Today she insisted you get better clothes...She was having her pool refilled just for you and was having a New Years Eve party...again just for you. And insisted you needed something new to wear. You told her you really didn't want her to spend anymore money on you or go out shopping so you compromised that you could wear something from what Norma called "The husband box." In the attic.

They were very nice suits. Designer and in great condition. Parisian pajamas, striped swim trunks, cashmere sweaters...all from Norma's previous lovers and husbands...Movie stars and Hollywood big shots...now all yours.

She waves a hand absently. "Take whatever you want, darling...I'll have it cleaned and tailored to you..." She's got a box out herself and opens it with a coo of delight. "Aww...look at how lovely I was!" Inside her box is a ton of old pictures. Black and white of Norma on set...Early in her twenties or late in her teens. Beautiful and graceful and eyeing the camera with her cat eyes. She pushes the box to you, obviously wanting her little writer to coo over how beautiful she was too. "We should put these up, shouldn't we, darling?"