She growled, tore open the screen door, and marched after me. God, she was pretty when she was angry. “Hey, Mrs. Johnson!” I called to the yard be...ide us. “You think I’m falling for that shit again?!” Emily growled, her shoulders hunched, her arms straightening to balled fists beside her, “You are nineteen years old, Danny, and you still act like a fucking-”“Hey Daniel, hey Emily!” Mrs. Johnson waved back from her yard, one elbow resting on her rake, “Good heavens, Emily, aren’t you cold?”. Taking a taxi to the shopping centre she thought about what was necessary to look sexy and please Barry, her boss. Lots of cleavage? Tick. Lots of leg? Tick. She looked in a few places but the clothes seemed rather mundane. Then she found a small shop tucked away in a corner. The front window looked promising but some of the clothes inside were, well, practically obscene. She looked through the racks and picked two dresses that fitted the criteria.She went into the dressing room and tried them. More

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