The Creepy Man
“And what does your wife look like?”
Anne couldn’t believe Ginny was discussing underwear with this creepy guy. Wife, her foot. The man wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“She is not big.” He cupped his chest and Anne’s bottom lip curled in distaste. “Like you. More petite like your friend.” A motion to her.
And a leer. He wasn’t acting married either. The way he looked at her. Gross.
“Like my sister?” Ginny’s eyes danced. Anne glared back at her. She was enjoying this.
“Sisters.” His eyes partially closed, an expression of bliss or agony or both on his face. “Oh, yes, like your little sister.”
Ginny didn’t correct him. She wouldn’t. She liked to be mistaken as the eldest, much to Anne’s irritation.
“I’m thinking a camisole would be perfect then.” Ginny tried to hold one up to her, a silk confection in royal blue. Anne twisted away, taking a couple steps back but not too far. She wouldn’t leave Ginny alone with the creep.
From a safe distance, she peered at Ginny’s selection. The camisole was nice. It looked comfortable. Soft. No unnecessary wires or other pokey things.
“I don’t know.” Even that far away, the man managed to stare at her breasts. Or lack of breasts. Anne wasn’t as blessed as her sister. “It is so…” Hands thrown up in the air. “I was thinking cotton, white, innocent.”
Childlike. Anne’s face burned. Her lack of curves attracted this creep. “We’re leaving, Ginny.”
“But…”
“NOW.”
Read Stanley’s Opinion Of Anne’s First Day Outfit September 17th
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