Clothes

I found myself sighing as I watched Gaz filled our cart with clothes of a certain style and color. Black and purple were the most common, followed by the occasional dark blue. Couple of pants, but mostly skirts...and if it had a skull on it, in it went. She didn't bother trying them on...which was kinda disappointing. It also wasn't very surprising. Gaz knew her size and was willing to put up with anything being a touch big or small on her.

And I was willing to accept that...until she got to the bras. "Um...Gaz?" I interjected as she dragged me (figuratively) toward them needed undergarments. "Do you know...you know...your size? Because the one you have on is kinda..."

"Too small...you're right. I almost forgot that it isn't supposed to feel like they're in vicious combat with the material," the shortstack muttered. Coming from anyone else, I would have thought that comment was sarcasm. Gaz just seemed to talk like that. Resuming her march, she began plucking bras off the hooks. I was confused until I realized each one she picked up was larger than the other.

I knew what her answer would be, but I felt obligated to try. "You could just get measured," I pointed out. Gaz looked at me, discomfort in her eyes. She knew I was right...and I knew she didn't want to do it. That would require asking someone about it. Social awkwardness strikes again. Just as I was about to offer words of encouragement, she snapped her fingers. "Wait here," she instructed before running off.

So I waited...in the women's clothing section. Particularly the underwear section. By myself. I could only imagine what the people passing by me thought. It was about ten minutes later...ten agonizing minutes later...before Gaz returned. Walking up to me she held out...a roll of measuring tape. "...you sure?" I asked, understanding why she had bought it. She didn't want to talk to anyone about being measured...so she was asking me to do it for her.

Nodding, Gaz led me to the dressing rooms. "I trust you," she said again. I didn't argue and soon found myself standing in the changing room with Gaz. "Do you know how to do this?" I asked, fumbling with the measuring tape.

So after looking how to measure for a bra size on my phone, I turned and saw Gaz lifting her shirt over her head. "Uh...Gaz, you don't..." I began. She opened an eye, looking at me, then at the shirt she had nearly removed. "Better safe than sorry," she replied, a hint of slyness to her voice. ...well, it was going to happen eventually. I swallowed hard as I stepped up behind her and wrapped the measuring tape around her upper waist, just under her boobs. ...I wasn't sure if I wanted her to notice my growing excitement or not.