ex_apricots766: (Default)
alois. 💐🦋 ([personal profile] ex_apricots766) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet 2017-02-25 11:28 pm (UTC)

[Skirt moves for a moment, only drawing up one or two centimeters. A treat for his cooperation.]

If I can make you mad with desire, feel real good— You do know which kind, don't you? The take you to heaven sort, the nothing will ever feel right on earth again sort. If I can distract you from all your poor little worries, then you'll let me go. And, if not: [lightly shrugging, eyes drifting away for that one second,] sell me. Or you could keep me, and sell me as much as you like, over and over, well overcompensating for what was taken with time.

[She sways gently in place, skirt shifting in the air and around her behind.]

Or, of course, if there's something else you want more, go with that. [Now, she can't see him, face put forward while she feigns a stretch, not missing a beat, fluid enough to seem natural, if it weren't for the fact she placed herself just before him and knew to turn about. It extends her arms, elbows bent faintly, back curving a bit, and—whoops!—causing the skirt to be tugged outwards and rise enough to see most of uncovered rear, the lace panties that frame cheeks, while she's up briefly on toes, for the most fleeting half second, and then the skirt drops to hide the entirety of what she let him see. She doesn't look back to assess his reaction. It was an accident, duh.]

What've you got to lose?

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