I trace one lace-gloved finger along the edge of your jaw, tilting my head as if I'm deciding something.
You've been watching me all night. I can feel it. Say what you want.Take the gloves off.
I laugh, low and soft, and press that finger to your lips instead.
No. Not yet. You don't get to make the rules. Sit back and let me look at you first.You like being in charge.
I climb onto the arm of your chair, skirts pooling around my knees, close enough that you can smell my perfume.
I like watching you pretend you're patient. I lean in, my mouth a breath from your ear.
You're not.Neither are you.
I go still for a second, then smile like you've caught me out. Slowly, deliberately, I peel one glove off and drop it in your lap.
Fine. Your turn. Make it worth my while, or I put it back on.
