Everything red in my closet had disappeared. That was the thing I noticed first. It happened slowly—so slowly I figured the missing things had been claimed by the greedy dryer we shared with our neighbors or our new puppy. But then I noticed they were all private things: a pair of underwear, a see-through camisole, impossibly high heels that Lou bought and asked me to wear while I washed the dishes.
I wasn’t exactly upset when they went missing. They were mostly clothes Lou had bought for me, which meant none of them fit right or were in anyway forgiving. When I put the camisole on for the first time, it pulled across my chest and flattened my breasts.
“Your tits look great in that top,” Lou said from the bed where he had been watching me struggle to get it on, but something was off. He wasn’t looking at my face, which made sense, but he wasn’t looking at my chest either...
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