Mmm…" She examined the piece herself. Silk, seed pearls at the bodice. "Probably about one-fifty."
"One hundred and fifty? Dollars?" He shook his head in disgust. "One good tug and it's a rag."
"One hundred and fifty? Dollars?" He shook his head in disgust. "One good tug and it's a rag."
Instantly she bristled. "Our merchandise is top-quality. It will certainly hold up to normal wear."
"Honey, a little number like this isn't designed for normal." He cocked a brow. "Looks about your size."
"You keep dreaming, Piasecki." She tossed her coat over the love seat. "The point of good lingerie is style, texture. The sheen of silk, the foam of lace. Ours is designed to make a woman feel attractive and good about herself-pampered."
"I thought the idea was to make a man beg."
"That couldn't hurt," she tossed back.
Night Smoke
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Underwear is a visually powerful tool, but how does it fare in the written word?
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He saw with delight that she wore those sexy thigh-hugging stockings again, this time in sheer
smoky-black. He imagined she'd considered that the black bra and panties were proper coordinates.
He thanked God for her practical mind.
"Sybill, I love what goes on under your clothes."
smoky-black. He imagined she'd considered that the black bra and panties were proper coordinates.
He thanked God for her practical mind.
"Sybill, I love what goes on under your clothes."
Inner Harbor