Push Up

"This one's pretty," my wife said, reaching for a pink, lace trimmed bra.

"Those...those are...push-up bras," I said, looking around, horrified.

"I can read," she said. "They're pretty, aren't they?"

"Yes, but..."

She held it up in between us; I looked around again, unsure if she was going to hold it up to her chest or mine. 

"I wonder if they have the right size?" she said, still not making it clear who she was shopping for.

"What...what size do you wear?" I asked, reaching for a bra as if I was helping her find one for her.

"36C," she said.

I exhaled, felt a moment of relief.

"But that's beside the point; we're shopping for you, not me."

"I...I can't hide one of these under a shirt," I said.

She looked at me again, nodded. "Of course not," she said, "that's the point, I don't intend to hide it anymore."

"Is there anything I can help you with?" I heard a voice from behind us. I turned, it was a smartly dressed sales woman looking at my wife with a helpful look on her face.

"Yes, you can," she said. "He wears a 38C, I found a 36C but not a 38."

The sales woman paused a beat, processed what my wife just said. "I'm sure we have some in the back," she said, "I can check if you'd like." She looked from my wife to me, back to my wife. "Are...are you sure on the size?"

My wife nodded. "I am; that's what he's wearing now."

The sales woman's wife went to my shirt; she was obviously looking for the signs of a bra. "This one will be, er, visible."

My wife smiled a genuine smile. "Of course," she said, "I told him the same thing."

"And panties?" the sales woman asked.

"Briefs in a medium," my wife answered. "Is there a matching garter belt?"

The sales woman smiled. "Of course," she said.

"Could you show me that as well? We may as well get the whole set."