Under her skirt: The last Kiss
I said, wiggling my eyebrows.
She jumped like I’d cursed the pope, mumbling something about “children these days” and how disappointed she was in the world. But eventually, we settled on a silver silk gown, backless, hugging my waist, sleeveless with just a rope strap across the shoulders, stopping above the knee with a slit so high it could be considered criminal.
“This is bomb,” I said, admiring it. She just nodded, mumbling something about Boss not liking lateness.
I dressed in silence. Calm now. Steady. I liked casinos, chaotic energy, danger cloaked in velvet, and men dumb enough to bet more than they could afford to lose.
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