the Question

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m serious! Okay, come on be honest… You’re right, I knew it.”

“Emily, stop babbling, you look amazing!”

“Are you being honest or just saying that to keep from hurting my feelings?”

“Fine Emily, yes, that dress makes you look fat. Really fat, actually, you look so fat, I might have assumed you were pregnant!”

Emily removed one of her stilletos and threw it at me in indignation. “So you really think it looks good?” She asked again, her brows furrowed in worry. I shook my head at her ridiculousness, marvelling at her as she stood before me in that tight black cocktail dress that made her the image of sex. Her hair flowed down to her shoulders with little curls in it that framed her adorable face and her eyes were almost enough to keep you from eyeing the rest of her body hungrily…almost.

I didn’t bother to dignify her question with a verbal answer. I closed the distance between us and shoved her up against the wall behind her to ravish her mouth.

“…Guess I look good.”

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