I reach under the table, slipping my hand beneath her skirt, petting her thigh. “Keep talking, Ollie girl.” I keep on my path but stop and make a face when I can’t get to where I’m going. “What the fuck is this?” She shifts back, flashing me her toned legs beneath the army green skirt she’s sporting. “It’s a skort.” “A skort? What the fuck is a skort?”
