AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Not at all,” I tell her honestly. “Every woman is shaped different, and sometimes you wear a certain size shirt but a different size bra.”
Felicity rolls her eyes. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine,” she growls as she takes the red ensemble and heads to the dressing room. Just the thought of her trying on the pieces makes me want to fumigate the store. I’ll definitely have to hand-wash them in the back if she doesn’t purchase them. And something tells me, that outfit isn’t going to fit her the way she’s expecting it to. She’s too…top heavy.
I stand outside the dressing room, like I always do, ready to offer assistance, if needed. Felicity, however, is a professional at getting in a bustier, and before I know it, she rips open the curtain and struts into my shop, wearing nothing but the red corset and its matching red lace thong.
I should be completely shocked she just struts out into the store, where anyone can see her, wearing next to nothing, but I’m not. First, it’s Felicity, and I’d expect nothing less. But mostly it’s because the outfit looks…bad. Like really, really bad. Like a busted can of biscuits BAD!
“Umm,” I start, not really able to find the right words.
If I were being completely honest, Felicity actually has a lot in her favor. She’s pretty when she doesn’t completely overdo her makeup, her hair has long, natural curls that everyone fawn over, and her body isn’t bad. It’s not perfect, but hell, whose is?
What draws my attention though is how bad this outfit makes her look. It doesn’t complement her natural curves and beauty – at all! As expected, the top is too small. Her boobs look painfully uncomfortable and lack the natural plump appearance a corset can give you. And her waist? Oh, God. It’s way too tight and gives her a horrible muffin top over the panties. I’m almost embarrassed for her.
“Well, I’m not really sure it’s right–” I start to say, but am cut off.
“I’ll take it!”
My mouth opens, ready to argue with her. I know the customer is always right, but this outfit just isn’t for her. Maybe if it were in a medium, it wouldn’t look like a marshmallow seeping out of the sides of a s’mores graham cracker. I’m saved from trying to talk her out of it when she turns to face the mirror on the wall (not the one in the actual dressing room, mind you) and says, “Latham is going to swallow his tongue tonight when he sees it.”
And that’s when everything around me seems to crumble. My vision blurs (probably from the tears I didn’t know were so dangerously close to the surface) and my ears fill with static. Getting air into my lungs seems like the hardest job in the world right now.
“Oh, you didn’t think he was over there, pining away for you, did you?” she sneers, a vindictive grin on her face.
I don’t say anything. I can’t.
“Lathy and I have been spending a lot of time together lately,” she continues, shrugging her shoulders and running her hand seductively down the bodice of the corset. “We’ve been dancing around each other for too long now. When he asked me out, I knew it was time to take our relationship to the next level.” She stares at her reflection in the mirror, but I can feel her eyes on me. When they connect in the reflection, she adds, “He’s been over you since the moment you walked away.”
My throat closes and my vision blurs again. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I look at the woman in front of me, wearing horrible lingerie and a malicious smile, and I realize I’m not angry. I’m sad.
For her.
I take a step closer, ignoring the ringing of the bell over the door. “You know, Felicity, someday, you’re going to meet someone who loves you for who you are, not who you’re trying to be. Quit with the manipulating and the man-stealing. That’s not love. In fact, you’ll never know what love is because you don’t love yourself first. Maybe when you finally realize all of your evil and nasty isn’t who you really want to be, you’ll finally experience the life and love you’re meant to have. Until then, you’re just a shallow, horrible person who gets off on making everyone around her miserable.” I glance down at the hideous red outfit. “I feel sorry for you.”
Then, I turn around, coming face to face with my best friend, and say, “I’m going to take a break. Can you finish helping this customer?”
Free doesn’t say anything, just gives me a reassuring smile as I head toward the door. I don’t grab my purse or my keys, I just need air. I need space.
I need a hug, dammit.
