When she first found the leather and latex outfit in his closet, she didn't
know what to think. Normally she kept out of his closets, and while they
slept in the same bed, he preferred to keep his things in the west wing of
the sprawling mansion.
She'd stumbled across the fetish gear looking for a shoebox to store some of
her paintbrushes in.
She knew that every relationship had to have room for a private life, and
often wondered where he was late at night, but being busy with her own life,
didn't worry too much.
He mostly seemed happy, puttering away in his basement workshop with his
young friend Rob. It did strike her as odd that he wasn't interested in sex
much anymore, but it didn't bother her. Being a rich man's wife had
advantages, and allowed her to pursue her art. He could fool around however
he wanted as long as she got what she wanted.
But the nipples on the Batsuit and the funny tights his pal Robin wore were
a little tacky for her taste.
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"Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis." Ralph Waldo Emerson
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