Vicky's POV
My sister-in-law was apparently a psychic, or a menace, because inside one of the paper bags she bought were five swimsuits. All in my size. All brand new. All… tiny.
Not a single one-piece. Not even a mildly conservative two-piece. Every single bikini screamed: 'Hello, Oliver, please faint now.'
I swear, I'm going to strangle her when we get back.
But instead of planning her murder, I grabbed my phone and fired off a message.
"You little conniving traitor!" I attached a picture of the deadly lineup of bikinis.
Her reply came in two seconds.
[Hahaha!!! Enjoy!!! You're welcome, luv yah!]
I groaned and rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.
Still, I picked the black string bikini, the least scandalous, which wasn't saying much, and hurried into the bathroom.
Huge mistake!
String bikini meant:
It fit... yes.
But did it cover what I wanted covered? Absolutely not!
