No, the problem is almost six feet tall wrapped in an intoxicating combination of a black, leather midi dress and ebony skin that shimmers with specks of gold that must have been in whatever lotion or serum she applied to her skin to make it shine under the warm lights of the club. The problem smells like bergamot and amber. The problem is bent over the edge of the bar with bone straight lines of midnight silk trailing down her back, caressing her skin every time she moves her head.
