The Bitch In The Red Heels
When I got home from work, which Bitch would my wife be?
I walked in the door from work, and as soon as I saw her, I knew I was getting the Bitch. But I had no way to know if it was the Good Bitch or the Bad Bitch. When I walked in, there she was, my wife, the Bitch. She was standing in the dining room, beside the table, with a long black dress and her signature red stilettos. Her dark, curly hair was resting on her shoulders, and in stark contrast to her personality, her pure...