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054. Tits

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Phryne sashays to the far end of the stage. She throws a wink in Jack’s direction—it must be to him, surely? He thinks almost wildly—and then starts to remove a glove. Finger by finger. The sheer material pulling away from her arm, the bared white skin, makes Jack flush.

Phryne turns her back to the crowd: inch by inch, she undoes the single ribbon holding her dress taut around her neck. She turns coyly, bare wrist holding her dress over her chest, and shimmies a bit to the music, feeling it out, feeling the crowd’s attention.

Jack’s attention.