As the afternoon rolled around, Amber found herself sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room, with bags of varying sizes sitting around her like rediscovered treasure troves. She worked through them one at a time, picking out items of clothing she hadn't been able to fit into for the longest time.
After summoning up the courage to try some on, she sucked a deep breath and faced it head on.
To her surprise, a bunch of the articles were too big, and ended up in an ever-growing heap behind her. The bigger it became, the bigger her smile grew.
An hour later, she stood there flabbergasted by just how many of the items now fit her. Almost like having a new wardrobe. With just one small bag to go.
She didn't recognize it at all.
A colourful holdall, zipped shut, and a little too bright and glittery for her usual tastes.
She tugged it open, and emptied the contents onto the floor.
Some leggings, a skirt she half remembered from her 20s, and something else.
She laughed aloud as she lifted it up to inspect it.
A bloody tutu. Of all things.
She tried to remember it, but it didn't ring a bell. Maybe something from a hen night, or a fancy dress party? She had no clue.
Her smile twitched.
What the hell.
The tutu didn't have much weight to it. And she wondered if she'd even get it up over her knees. But after a bit of shimmying and deft finger-work, it was around her waist.
She pulled up the straps. Wrestled with the front of it. A few seconds later, she decided it would be easier without her bra, so she reached inside and unhooked. Pulled it out one arm at a time.
Perfect.
Her breasts nestled into the tight fabric.
Her eyes darted to the blinds that covered the window. A last second consideration.
They were still closed.
Phew.
She moved herself to the other end of the room and dared to peek at her reflection in the mirror. The image in front of her almost made her grin.
Sure, she still wanted to lose more weight. But a mere six months ago this thing would have ripped, or burst, as soon as she exhaled. Now she wore it with a reasonable level of comfort.
Quite the moment of pride.
And for celebration.
She padded into the kitchen, and poured herself a vodka.
"Cheers," she said, and gulped it down in one.
She poured another one before returning to the living room.
Back on the floor, she started cramming everything that was too big into a black garbage bag. And another one. Ready for the bin. She had no plans of going back to that size. Not ever.
As she was pulling the tie on the final bag, she heard a knock at the door.
She glanced at the clock.
Just after two.
"Come on in."
She double knotted the bag. Heaved it up in her arms, and carried it to the corner of the room.
"Hi?"
Amber twisted her head so fast she almost snapped her neck.
"Erm," he said.
A stranger was stood in the doorway. His eyes fixed. His mouth open.
"Can I help you?"
He pulled one of his arms into view. And the box he was carrying.
"Package."
"Ah. OK." Amber walked toward him. She reached out to take it.
Then she spotted how bare her arm was. And one of the frills from the side of the tutu.
Jesus Christ.
She gulped so hard it hurt.
He gawped at her.
His pupils picked at her form like those of a predator.
What the hell could she say? There was no explanation.
She grabbed the parcel, signed for it with a trembling pen.
Forever grateful he was much taller than her. There was no way her breasts would stay inside the material if she had to bend over in any way.
"Thanks," she stuttered through a dry mouth.
"My pleasure," he said. His tone a little too pleased.
Amber could feel her entire face flame red. And the cool air from outside swarmed her bare legs. Pretty much all the way up to the knickers she'd thankfully kept on.
"Practising some moves, are you?"
"What?" Amber couldn't look directly at him. "Oh, erm, yeah."
He chuckled.
"Thanks, again," Amber said.
"It's my pleasure." He cleared his throat a little. "Not often I get a treat like this on my rounds."
She caught movement out of the corner of her eye.
Looked.
And reeled and licked her lips at the same time.
His meaty hand was pulling and prodding at his crotch.
"Jesus."
The word was out of her mouth before she could even think to restrain it.
He laughed. But didn't stop.
Even around the bulk of his hand she could make out the shape of his erection. Thick, firm, and eager.
She couldn't take her eyes off of it.
