He spun the knife in his hand, then reached for her chest. “Wayne!” she said. “Don’t be so stiff. You want this done right, right?” She sighed. “Don’t get too frisky.” “Sooner get frisky with a lion, Mara. That I would.” He cut the opaque lace window out of her bodice, leaving her with a plunging neckline. Her sleeves went next, shortened by a good foot to above the elbow. He took the lace there and tied it like a ribbon around her dress right beneath her breasts, then pulled the laces on the back of the dress more tightly. That lifted and thrust her upper chest outward in a decidedly
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