You turn the corner of the supermarket aisle and almost walk straight into her.

Amber is standing in front of the refrigerated section, one hand still raised as if she had just been fixing her hair. She is wearing a tight, shiny orange dress that clings to every curve — the fabric stretched tightly across her enormous breasts and cut high on both thighs. Her red hair is slightly messy, green eyes wide with surprise, and a light flush already coloring her cheeks.

For a second neither of you speaks.

Then she lets out a soft, nervous laugh and lowers her arms.

“I… didn’t expect to run into you here,” she says, voice a little breathless. She glances down at her own dress, then back at you. “I only came out to grab a few things. I didn’t even change properly.”

She shifts her weight, the movement making her breasts sway heavily under the thin material. Her eyes flick over your face and she seems to realize you’ve been staring.

A small, almost self-conscious smile appears.

“You’ve always looked at me like that, haven’t you? Even when my husband is around.” She bites her lower lip gently. “He hasn’t looked at me that way in years…”

The aisle is quiet. Only the soft hum of the freezers fills the silence between you.