Size A

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
To some people size matters...

Submitted: May 10, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 10, 2012



He promised himself that he was going to be brave, opened the door and entered the store. He looked around at hundreds of women's bras and panties, and felt them all looking back. On weekends he followed his wife everywhere, and of course he had been in Victoria's Secret dozens of times with her. But with her it was different. When she was nearby, the bras were not winking at him, and the panties were not questioning him. But tonight he was here alone getting a present for her. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, and he would surprise her with a beautiful bra. After living together for so many years, he knew everything there was to know about her, so finding her size should not be a problem.

He felt his heart beating faster as he slowly walked forward, getting farther and farther from the door, from the safety of the street. The mixed smell of perfume and body splashes reminded him of something or someone he knew but could not remember. A song was playing on the store radio, a woman was singing about the pleasure of love. There was always some woman singing on the Victoria's Secret radio, every time he was there, and always about love. Annoyed with the sounds and smells around, but determined to get what he came for, he walked farther.

In the middle of the store were his wife's favorite counters full of bras and panties. As he saw four school girls sitting on the floor next to the counters attentively looking through one of the boxes, he took a step back and started to regret that he was so far from the door now. But then he noticed a couple of other men navigating around the counters. Immediately feeling better, he took a brave step forward and started searching for her size.

The line to the cashier was long with at least ten women patiently waiting, some playing with their phones, others smelling perfume that was on the shelves surrounding them. He was standing behind a tall woman with a familiar haircut. He recognized her the moment she turned in order to put a bottle of perfume back on the shelf. She was his secretary. She noticed him too. Smiling, she asked,

"How are you? Fancy meeting you here. What are you doing here?"

"Shopping for tomorrow's Valentine's Day present for my wife. And you?"

"I'm shopping for myself. Getting myself a couple of bras on sale."

He noticed the bras she was holding. Big bras, most probably size DD. He felt ashamed of everything, of him looking at her bras, of him trying not to look at her big breasts and imagining how these bras would hug them. He felt his face getting hot and his hands starting to shake. She looked down at the bra he was holding and smiled again,

"So, is this the present you are getting for your wife?"

"Yes," he replied, feeling even more ashamed, if that was even possible.

"Are you sure it's the right size? It looks like a size A. It is going to be too small for her."

He knew exactly what his wife's bra size was, but looking at two DD bras he couldn't bring himself to make a sound for at least a minute. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, he pretended to be considering his secretary's last statement. Then he made himself say something like "I'm going to call my wife and ask her," turned around, put the bra on a shelf, and walked out as fast as he could. He had never felt more ashamed in his whole life. He stopped feeling deep love for his wife long time ago, probably after their first ten years together, but he had never been so ashamed because of her, because of something she had, or rather something she did not have. He was walking home hating her. How could he spend so many years with her? It should be stopped. He should stop wasting his time on her and her size A breasts...

The End

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