Unstuffing My Bra

I lay awake in bed.

It had been several hours since I’d “put away” my friend Daisy, tucking her into the place behind my cleavage where I kept things. I’d spent the rest of the day giggling occasionally—it tickled when she squirmed—but she’d eventually settled down to sleep, and I worried a little.

I wasn’t too worried about her being all right; I’d kept my cat there for several weeks once until I got around to buying more cat litter, and it seemed like living things just went into suspended animation when they went to sleep there. I was worried about what she’d say when I brought her back out.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, stuffing her in there—but was she gonna be mad when I let her back out? Well, I’d just have to face it. Soon people would start to notice she was missing.

I sighed, reached into my nightgown, and pulled her out up to the shoulders—just enough for me talk to her face-to-face. “Hi, Daisy.”

She blinked at me. “Gina? Are…are you going to let me out now?”

“Well…that depends.”

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