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the night at Grammy’s house. I didn’t bother with the few dishes that sat crusting over
in the sink. They’d be there tomorrow morning. My feet rejoiced at the removal of my
gray croc-skin pumps. After stowing them in the closet, I showered and changed into
an oversized t-shirt.
The smooth coolness of my bedsheets soothed my worn body. Just as I drifted to
sleep I heard the click of the front door, Roberto returning from his night out.
77
Cindy Jacks
* * * * *
A set of twenty laps wore me out, which spoke volumes about my fitness level—or
lack thereof—but making the effort lifted my spirits. I’d forced myself every day for the
past three days to drop by the community center for a swim. I found if I left the house
ninety minutes before I had to pick up Danny from kindergarten, I could squeeze in a
workout and put myself back together before I had to be at the school.
Ibuprofen had become my best friend. My arms and legs ached, still unaccustomed
to the new demands put upon them. Aches and pains aside, I felt spectacular and
sweated less over each morsel I put in my mouth.
Today I’d left the house a few hours before school let out. I wanted to fit in a trip to
the mall before two. The idea of purchasing a treadmill had taken hold of me and I
thought I should price shop them before I decided on anything. Roberto wouldn’t care
if I spent the money, but part of me couldn’t drop a thousand bucks unless I knew I’d
spent it wisely.
On the escalator I surveyed the surrounding shops. The usual trinkets and
anonymous mannequins lined storefront windows, but one mannequin in particular
caught my attention. In the window at Victoria’s Secret stood a faceless beauty clad in a
raspberry and black merry widow. An idea bubbled up in the back of my brain. I’d
never been one for lingerie, but I could picture myself dolled up in it.
My mind ran with the image. I could wear it under a plain dress and no one would
know what lay underneath. Over dinner, I could tease Alejandro under the table with
the feel of the garters. The look on his face when I let my dress fall away to reveal my
naughty undies… Smiling to myself, I wandered into the store. A size four pixie greeted
me at the door. I fought the urge to vomit on her.
“I’d like to try on the black and raspberry ensemble in the window,” I said.
“Thirty-eight?” she asked.
“Yes,” I lied. More like a forty-two bust, but I wanted to kiss her for guessing a
smaller size.
78
Love Game
I followed the tiny woman to a dressing room, undressed and waited for her to
bring the bustier. She called out to me once she’d hung the item outside my room. It
took some wrangling to stuff the twins into the bra cups, but with everything strapped
in, I allowed my gaze to drift up my reflection. Relief and surprise washed over me. The
outfit covered little, but enough to accentuate the positive. I was almost nude, but better.
The sides of the garment hid the stretch marks on my hips, the Lycra in the body of the
lingerie smoothed my familiar bulges. Yes, I could see myself poised over Alejandro
clad only in this.
After I’d wrestled my way out of the complex straps and hooks and changed into
my ordinary clothes, I took the merry widow to the front with a pair of black, lacy
stockings.
“Everything fit to your satisfaction?” the pixie asked me.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Would you like to see more bras in thirty-eight double D?”
“Oh no. I’m a D-cup.”
“Did you like the fit of the bustier?”
“Very much.”
“It’s a thirty-eight double D,” she replied.
“Get out.” My mouth fell open. “I’ve been a D-cup as long as I can remember.”
“A woman’s body changes on many occasions in her life—puberty, pregnancy, any
time there’s a hormonal change.”
“My son gave me another cup size?”
“Could be.”
“Well, it’s nicer than the stretch marks and big ass he gave me.”
She laughed. “My two kids wreaked havoc on my body too.”
I repressed the impulse to slap her. “Not that I can tell.”
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