Re: Dress Shop
She laughed, and though it came out as a rich murmur of sound, it started life as something nervous. Her eyes shifted down before she forced them back up again, trying to tap into her body's confidence. The brief flicker of sooty lash took her uncertainty and translated it into flirtation. "I shouldn't be. Wearing it." It was a confession of her own, accompanied by a press of lips that worked itself into a smile.
The other woman's whisper sent a shiver down her back that caused her shoulders to shift in a slink-slide of motion. And she knew (she did) that however the suit looked, it wasn't because of her. Not really. She knew enough to know that teh body wasn't hers, that it was on temporary loan, and whatever the other woman claimed to like, it wasn't anything that came from her. That stubborn train of thought was pushed away as much as possible by the lingering traces of the tea's additive, but she still had to whisper out, to clarify. "It's not me. None of it."
But there was still that thumb pressed to her mouth, joined by the fingers beneath her jaw, and it was memory and habit to tip into a touch like that, to let it guide her. Her eyes closed of their own accord, another sweep of lashes downward as she breathed out, and it was a struggle to open them again, to swallow hard and to find words. Words that came out in a husky murmur. "Show me... what?"