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041. Turn-On

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Phryne always pretends that she doesn’t see Jack surreptitiously watching her remove her stockings—if he isn’t bold enough to watch outright, after all they’ve been to one another, then she won’t give him the audacious gift of a show.

(But oh, she could. She could roll them down slowly, inch by inch, her foot resting on his shoulder so he could kiss her newly bared ankle. But he needs to ask for it. Or at least watch outright with those hungry eyes.)

She slides the black silk down her thighs, over her knees, off of her calves, luxuriously smooth.