Just a month before she’d spent her days in baggy sweat pants or ill fitting jeans. He’d traded in the trainers for kitten heels, and raised them an inch each subsequent week.
Wearing them every day around the house had finally got her proficient enough to feel confident, confidence that was thrown out of the window when she opened the delivery containing the tutu outfit.
The note just read, ‘Meet me at the mall, top floor, take the escalator. Wear only this and the shoes. Walkies begins at 1pm sharp.’

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