"I said don't look." "OK, ok." Giving in, he turns to the wall, allows his sense of sound to guide his imagination. Belt, unhitched. Jeans, kicked off. Lacey, kind of tank-top thing tossed aside. Silence. Then, the dress. That fucking cute yellow summery one. Maneuvering. Zipper. No, attempt at zipper. Second attempt. She doesn't want to but... "Can you help me?"
Now, he wishes he hadn't helped. "Don't go," he should've said.
Now, he wishes he hadn't helped. "Don't go," he should've said.
