My Girlfriend's Wardrobe Novels & Stories

I pushed through the glass doors into the store, the warm lighting spilling over polished floors and endless racks of clothing arranged with surgical precision. The attendant, Tacha, spotted me immediately. “Hey, Ocean,” she greeted warmly, her smile widening when she noticed the girl in my arms. “And who do we have here?” She was grinning from side to side now. “My girlfriend.” I replied, the word rolling off my tongue before I could second guess it. Astrid’s head snapped up so fast I thought she might get whiplash. “She’s beautiful. Should I bring some pieces for her?” She asked, moving around the table.

Jacob says once he fully takes in my outfit. "Yes," I reply, still smiling. "There is no way in hell you are leaving this house dressed like that. Are you kidding me?" He's enraged. I can barely contain my excitement at how well my plan is going. "Does it look like I'm kidding?" I fold my arms across my chest. "How dare you dress like this when you know how much I hate it." "Just in case you've forgotten, let me remind you. I am not your girlfriend, so my assets do not belong to you. I'll show them off any way I please."

I just wear what I'm comfortable in. But now, that trait I have always applauded myself for now seem silly. very silly in fact, how can I not own a pair of heels? What am I going to wear to an outing with my boyfriend? Sweats and jeans don't even sound right now. I rummaged my wardrobe and didn't find anything satisfactory. Ugh! Now I know why other girls seem to think girl besties are very important. If I had a girl bestie, I would have called her and asked her for what to wear, but alas, no one, not even one. I had shunned the offer of friendship from other girls in my coven because I had thought most of them silly, but now, I realise the consequence of my standoffishness.

And tonight, I was introducing him to the people who loved me before I even knew what love meant. I pulled open the wardrobe door and froze. The wardrobe was stocked, like, weirdly stocked. Every hanger held something light, summery, soft. Flowery dresses, cotton skirts, gauzy blouses. There were denim shorts in just the right wash, oversized t-shirts, even a stack of tank tops in pastel shades I’d absolutely pick out myself. It wasn’t just thoughtful. It was unsettlingly accurate. I paused, blinked at a hanger with a powder blue sundress dotted in soft pink florals, thin straps, a square neckline, flowy skirt that hit mid-thigh.

Sex problems. "And above all," she clapped, pen down. Eyes on me. "We need change your fucking wardrobe. Just why are you in love with old things?" I looked down, "What's wrong with my clothes?" "They're old." What? They were not that old. I had on my gray tailored dress, black toe heels, and black matching bag. They looked fine enough in my eyes. "You're never gonna catch a man wearing that." Cleo disagreed, unimpressed. "You're never going to catch anyone's attention looking like this either, we have work to do."

My jaw dropped, “You did not! Zade, I told you I don’t need…” “Relax, chihuahua.” He interrupted, clearly amused, “It’s just a few outfits. You’re representing me now. Can’t have you walking around looking like you just escaped from Drewire.” “Just a few outfits?! Knowing you, you would have bought the whole site or something! I'm your girlfriend not your wife!” I stomped my feet on the ground. But seriously, I have almost twenty boxes filled to the brim with clothes! Just clothes! “Girlfriend? Ha. You, baby, are my wife and there's nothing you can do to change that so just keep your pretty little mouth closed and enjoy what I buy for you.”

The doorman opened the door for us with a polite nod, and suddenly we were inside, surrounded by gleaming displays, soft lighting and the kind of hushed atmosphere that screamed money. A perfectly groomed saleswoman approached immediately, her smile widening when she recognized Julius. "Mr. Armstrong, what a pleasure. How can we help you today?" "My girlfriend needs a complete professional wardrobe," He said, and my heart did a little flip at the word girlfriend. "Several suits, blouses, shoes and accessories. Whatever she needs." "Of course," The woman said smoothly. "Right this way, please." She led us deeper into the store, and I tried not to gawk at everything around me. Every item looke

the sister said, suddenly reappearing, “is also a lie.” She held several outfits on hangers. One by one, she hung them—face-out—on a nearby rack. Three distinct looks. “Classic,” she said, pointing to an ice-blue skirt and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “Natural,” she added, indicating a floral dress bursting with reds and pinks. “Preppy with an edge.” A leather skirt—short and possibly tight—paired with a white shirt and a heather-gray cardigan. “Which one speaks to you?” the brother asked.

I found myself taken aback by the unexpected turnout as everyone willingly accompanied us to the mall to help Mini select a dress. A gesture that both surprised and perhaps irritated me. Their exact words were "she's not only your girlfriend. She's our friend too" How bullshit. Well, she's mine at the end of the day. Thousands of dresses were piled up in front of us, creating a colorful mountain of fabric. My friends, always ready for a debate, began bickering over the array of dresses.

He cleared his throat and moved away, reminding the woman that I was the client. “Well, what do you think your boyfriend is into?” she asked, thumbing through a few designs on the rack. “We have a wide range here.” She held up the white one I had been looking at earlier. “We have the sweet and innocent look, or do you want something more roleplay-esque?” She grabbed a Wonder Woman costume. My eyes widened, and Dan snickered. “A corset like this, maybe?” I was about to say that I didn’t think he would enjoy it when Dan piped in, “Add in some thigh highs and boots, and he will be drooling all over the floor.”