She opened her sketchbook and turned it toward me. The way she leaned forward gave me a tantalizing glimpse down her blouse. Suddenly, I was wide awake, every cell in my body hyperaware of her. Fuck. I’ve seen enough tits for two lifetimes. At this point, a good rack was like a well-made whiskey cocktail at the club—appreciated, sure, but nothing that stopped me in my tracks. Except hers, apparently.
