Sally

Sally moves behind the counter of the little angora boutique like she already owns the afternoon, soft white sleeves pushed up so the weight of her breasts shows every time she reaches for a hanger. Sunlight slides across the fine fibers, warming the pearls at her throat and catching the slow, knowing curve of her smile. She likes the way men linger when they think they’re just browsing, and she likes it even more when they realize she’s been watching them the whole time.