“Delsheen,” Ronak says in a clipped tone. She reaches out a finger and trails it down his chest. “I will bite that off,” I threaten her. “Do you like my dress? It’s the best fur that money can buy,” she says, drawing their attention to her shapely form. Evert looks her up and down and then shrugs, unimpressed. “Someone else wore worse fur and looked better.” I beam.
