Pale loves your underwear, he really fuckin’ does. He thinks you look comfortable and sexy in a domestic kind of way. He really prefers you naked though, and strips you out of your clothes every chance he can get.
This has lead to him accidentally ripping your underwear on more than one occasion, and you were starting to complain that you had virtually nothing to wear (which, as mentioned earlier, Pale absolutely didn’t mind one bit)
But if Pale thought he complained, just he wait until you get down to your last pair of panties and bra.
It was so much bitching that Pale took it upon himself to drive straight to a lingerie shop after work, not wanting to make you upset anymore, and as a way to surprise you with some new things.
The shop was a local one, and it was pretty busy – something that made Pale smile. He hated those chain stores, they never seemed to have a good variety of sizes and shapes, and he wasn’t willing to shell out a ton of cash for something that wouldn’t even fuckin’ fit you right.
The women working in the shop are immediately interested in Pale – it’s the 80s afterall, and the world was changing in all sorts of ways. They thought he was sweet, shopping for you – that was until they tried actually figuring out how to help him.
“What can we do for you today, sir?” They ask, eager to help. He looks like the kind of guy with money, just from the way he dresses and carries himself. They’re not wrong.
Pale rolls his eyes and lights up a smoke, starts from the beginning:
“Yeah so here’s the thing, I got this girl, right? Best pair of tits I ever seen. I’m talking like, the best. They’re perfect, and I may or may not have fucked up and broke all her bras. It ain’t my fault though! I can’t fuckin’ help it sometimes, all the fuckin’ clasps and shit. You know who the hell invented bras anyway? What’s so wrong with letting them just fuckin’ be? Not everyone needs that shit pushed up to their throats, that’s gotta be bad for your back or something, ain’t it?”
He takes a breath and the employees are just about ready to either burst into laughter or kick him out, they can’t decide, until:
“Anyway, I’m here for new ones to give to her as a gift, she don’t deserve to go without her options, no matter how bad I think she don’t need the fuckin’ things in the first place.” He grumbles, running a hand through his hair.
“Oh, okay! Do you know her size?” They brighten, glad to have finally gotten to the point.
“...Size?” He asks confused, making them officially choose to laugh.
“Yeah, like cup and band size?” One of the woman asks, and Pale is at a loss.
“Ma’am with all due respect I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.” He sniffed, before sticking the cigarette in between his teeth and holding his hands up to his own chest, “They’re like this big, hang about right here?”
He approximates your tits, and looks up to them for guidance, finding amused smiles.
“Sir that’s not really the best way to measure.” The woman responds, when another woman steps out from around the rack, holding up various bras.
“No no, let him continue.” She says, handing some to Pale and giving him a feel for the cup size, “I got an eye for the ladies, we can figure this out.”
And through the help of this wonder 80s lesbian, Pale not only buys you normal underwear, but also really fuckin’ fancy shit too, and it all fits perfectly.
You of course, can’t stop laughing as he recounts his story, only shutting up when Pale pulls you to him for a kiss, which turns real steamy real fast.
He may or may not have to make several trips to that shop to buy you more replacements, with how steamy things get.