Bobbi/Natasha/Sharon, ‘You Don’t Own Me’
“Bobbi…could you please…just wear this one?” Sharon asked – nay – BEGGED.
“Bobbi, c’mon, this one’s nice…” Natasha waggled the black dress on the hanger, knowing damn well she was half-heartedly arguing for the losing side of this battle.
“Zip me,” Bobbi demanded, turning around and moving her hair out of the.way. Sharon folded her arms, so Natasha was the one to tug the dress zipper up the back of the tiny purple sequined cocktail dress Bobbi had insisted on wearing to this government dinner with Sharon this evening.
She’d chosen it simply because it was the one dress Sharon asked her not to wear.
“This is really mature, you know…” Sharon griped.
Bobbi countered, “I know. Right on par with telling your girlfriend what to wear and laying out her clothes for her…”
“Touche…” Natasha muttered under her breath.