Stride from the hip girl. You’ve got it, so flaunt it. Nipples erect! Turn those headlights on. Balls is weighed, not counted!
The early afternoon sun lit the burnished ends of her hair as they flounced around her alabaster throat, with its slowly spreading crimson stain. She jammed the outsized Donnatella Vs onto the bridge of her nose.
Don’t look around, she repeated to herself. Do not look around. Don’t give him the satisfaction. You have come this far, you can go all the way.
Small pebbles flicked from the bitumen with every clunk of her Jimmy Chu’s. A few more strides and she would disappear from his sight. Their sight. The sight of them. The two of them, going hell for leather on her imported beige Natuzzi three seater.
She could not suppress a giggle as she role-played requesting a replacement from David Jones’ because the leather was stained.