The next man Jazz moved toward was already reaching for her. Inside, she grimaced and made a mental note to keep an eye out for his face; outside, she obligingly let herself be touched, even encouraged him to so by shifting one slim, silky thigh against his palm.
He caught at her flimsy garter, started yanking it down, she didn't fight that either. In fact, her lips parted slightly, her eyes going hooded - appearing for all purposes like she was pleased by his touch and not a bit like she was imagining kicking him right in his wide, rubbery mouth.
Her eyes drifted, knowing she was supposed to always make the others feel included, and stopped with a jolt on pair of ice blue eyes.
It was him. The man from the park, the man she couldn't explain. Who'd haunted her since - waking or sleeping. For a moment she forgot where she was, what she was doing, as she looked at him, only him, then it all came rushing back on a tidal wave of humiliation as the man she'd completely forgotten got ambitious and tried tugging her closer so he could make a swipe for her panties.