heather f

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“The seats are different. I thought they were leather.” My fingers run over the fabric covering the seats. It’s smooth as butter and feels expensive.  “They were. I had them reupholstered.”  “You did? Why?” I ask, surprised.  Callum’s eyes look pointedly at my bare thighs. “Do you like your little dresses?”  “Yes, I love them.”   “So do I. Now you don’t have to stop wearing your short skirts.”
Any Means Necessary
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