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Summary
"They never really suited me, you know. The cut wasn't quite right." She eyeballs you, contemplative. And then she. Oh. She presses them up to your waist. Like she's imagining you wearing them, instead of her. You can't feel the silk through the fabric of your trousers, but you imagine it, and it makes you shiver.
"No?" Oh, and your voice is shot. Stupid. Always over-eager and over-obvious. She's joking, Jean, reel it in.
She shakes her head. Looks you up and down. Silk still pinned up against your hips in her cool, dry hands. "You might fit into them, though."In which Jean tries on some very nice underwear, and Judit lets him know how pretty he looks.
