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Description
Peace of mind. That's what he gave her. Otherwise she'd have nothing to do with him. He was just not her type. In any way. When she had first met him at work she had taken an instant dislike to him. He just constantly rubbed her up the wrong way. She found herself disagreeing with just about every opinion he ever brought up in conversation at work or gatherings of the staff outside work. She thought of him as the missing link and had said so frequently around the office. All outside his earshot of course. He espoused old fashioned values, old fashioned gender roles. Women in the home, preferably in the kitchen. Married women leaving the workforce to stay home and raise the children. Homemaking as a career. No interests outside the home beyond those that help her be a better homemaker. A better wife. A better housefrau. But he was so charming about it that no one seemed to complain at all. No one objected. No one seemed to mind the neolithic cods wallop he spouted, but her. It just got under her skin somehow. It felt worse somehow when it was only her who objected at all. She felt alone, small, weak. A single small voice against a giant of a man. She found herself often just staring at him as he walked past. The space seemed to bend around him. He became the centre of any room or location he was present in. Everyone else was small, pale and dull around him. Why couldn't she get him out of her mind?
It was worse whenever she saw him in a suit for an office party or formal function. He'd inevitably wear an old fashioned suit like he'd just stopped off from the 1950s. Hat and tie and just look so sharp in them. She was hooked and she knew it. But she was so not his type. But in her fantasies she was. She was the docile little doll on his arm dressed like the perfect vintage wife. Old fashioned outfits whether they were petticoats or skirts so tight she could barely wiggle fast enough to keep up balanced on the highest of heels. And worse this degradation she did to herself in her fantasies made it so much hotter. She listened to him talk more. Wondering and dreaming of becoming his ideal little woman. Trained, tamed, believing everything her man told her. Submitting to such an old fashioned set of views suddenly occupied her every waking thought. Retro fashions suddenly became her ideal outfits. Dreaming of twirling in the kitchen or on the dance floor for him in her prettiest petticoats just to make him smile. She started to dabble. She found her nearest venue that held rockabilly functions. Somewhere she could dress up in the fashions that interested her. That made her part of the fantasy more. Making her small, pretty and weak. Needing a nice man to lead. Him. Needing him. She kept telling herself it was all fantasy. It was never going to go beyond that. It would never be physical. She clung to that thought for as long as she could. As she sunk deeper into an old fashioned life. Her wardrobe at work was now a tamed down version of what she wore to nights out. Less petticoats but beautiful swing dresses that screamed her new love of the 1950s and all they stood for.
Of course as her wardrobe at work changed his attention in her increased. Before she had been invisible to him but now she would get a few comments praising her appearance every day. The old her would have objected to these but the new old fashioned girl she was becoming, had become lapped them up. She found herself putting a little extra wiggle in her walk when he was around. The girdles made it so easy and natural. She doted now on his every word. She no longer objected or disagreed. She found herself nodding and murmuring quiet agreements with everything he said. No matter how once she would have objected. None of her objections made sense to her anymore. There was only his opinions his ideas, his beliefs. When he asked her out she was thrilled. One night of bliss out dancing had become... more. Now they were engaged. Her career would be ending soon. Her place was in the home. She was going to marry him. She was going to serve men, serve the patriarchy, serve him. And nothing else mattered anymore.

Description
Peace of mind. That's what he gave her. Otherwise she'd have nothing to do with him. He was just not her type. In any way. When she had first met him at work she had taken an instant dislike to him. He just constantly rubbed her up the wrong way. She found herself disagreeing with just about every opinion he ever brought up in conversation at work or gatherings of the staff outside work. She thought of him as the missing link and had said so frequently around the office. All outside his earshot of course. He espoused old fashioned values, old fashioned gender roles. Women in the home, preferably in the kitchen. Married women leaving the workforce to stay home and raise the children. Homemaking as a career. No interests outside the home beyond those that help her be a better homemaker. A better wife. A better housefrau. But he was so charming about it that no one seemed to complain at all. No one objected. No one seemed to mind the neolithic cods wallop he spouted, but her. It just got under her skin somehow. It felt worse somehow when it was only her who objected at all. She felt alone, small, weak. A single small voice against a giant of a man. She found herself often just staring at him as he walked past. The space seemed to bend around him. He became the centre of any room or location he was present in. Everyone else was small, pale and dull around him. Why couldn't she get him out of her mind?
It was worse whenever she saw him in a suit for an office party or formal function. He'd inevitably wear an old fashioned suit like he'd just stopped off from the 1950s. Hat and tie and just look so sharp in them. She was hooked and she knew it. But she was so not his type. But in her fantasies she was. She was the docile little doll on his arm dressed like the perfect vintage wife. Old fashioned outfits whether they were petticoats or skirts so tight she could barely wiggle fast enough to keep up balanced on the highest of heels. And worse this degradation she did to herself in her fantasies made it so much hotter. She listened to him talk more. Wondering and dreaming of becoming his ideal little woman. Trained, tamed, believing everything her man told her. Submitting to such an old fashioned set of views suddenly occupied her every waking thought. Retro fashions suddenly became her ideal outfits. Dreaming of twirling in the kitchen or on the dance floor for him in her prettiest petticoats just to make him smile. She started to dabble. She found her nearest venue that held rockabilly functions. Somewhere she could dress up in the fashions that interested her. That made her part of the fantasy more. Making her small, pretty and weak. Needing a nice man to lead. Him. Needing him. She kept telling herself it was all fantasy. It was never going to go beyond that. It would never be physical. She clung to that thought for as long as she could. As she sunk deeper into an old fashioned life. Her wardrobe at work was now a tamed down version of what she wore to nights out. Less petticoats but beautiful swing dresses that screamed her new love of the 1950s and all they stood for.
Of course as her wardrobe at work changed his attention in her increased. Before she had been invisible to him but now she would get a few comments praising her appearance every day. The old her would have objected to these but the new old fashioned girl she was becoming, had become lapped them up. She found herself putting a little extra wiggle in her walk when he was around. The girdles made it so easy and natural. She doted now on his every word. She no longer objected or disagreed. She found herself nodding and murmuring quiet agreements with everything he said. No matter how once she would have objected. None of her objections made sense to her anymore. There was only his opinions his ideas, his beliefs. When he asked her out she was thrilled. One night of bliss out dancing had become... more. Now they were engaged. Her career would be ending soon. Her place was in the home. She was going to marry him. She was going to serve men, serve the patriarchy, serve him. And nothing else mattered anymore.