The corset made her waist so tiny it could be spanned by a man’s hands.
The Photographer saw her across a crowded comicon – and ended up following her all through the day snapping picture after picture of her hourglass silhouette and the ridiculous top hat she wore with such panache.
It was past time to breathe, she thought, as she leaned against a convenient wall waiting for the lift to where her car waited. He waited too and they stepped into the lift together.
When the lift doors next opened there was nobody inside – only blood and a discarded corset.