The lace overlay on the bodice wrinkled as it laid there. Dante hooked the edge of her thong and pulled it aside, studying the cut along Angel’s inner leg. Her body was still achingly tired, and she was grateful for an excuse to sit. She sat down in one of the kitchen chairs to pull on her boots. A laundry basket with folded clothes sat in the corner. Angel stole a quick glance back at Dante. She obeyed silently, not out of submission, but out of habit. Dante must be watching TV. She saw her bag, next to the front door. No girl in the life usually did. +-+-+
The black dress just laid there. She glanced up at his face, and she knew her cheeks must have flushed. It was a gross thought, one that most clients would never consider, but it was fact.
