Excerpt
Ffej was not going to stare at the girl, because in his experience, girls who looked dressed like that dated guys who would threaten to beat you up for looking at them. Or more than threaten.
And she was for sure dressed to attract stares: gothy makeup, stretchy black tank top, red plaid miniskirt, torn fishnets, heels. And the word "slave" in lipstick on her forehead.
She stepped closer to Ffej, definitely closer than three-in-an-elevator etiquette. He tensed even more.
Her boyfriend's voice was sardonic, but not exactly mocking. "Lanie's got a great body, doesn't she?"
Ffej had deflected salvos like this before. "Sorry, didn't really notice," he muttered.
"She feels great, too," the guy continued. "You should feel her up."
Ffej knew better than to fall for this sort of line, but he was at a loss for words.
"Please feel me up," the girl Lanie husked. She locked eyes with Ffej and reached down for his wrists. "OK?"
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