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“We usually aren’t naked in the kitchen,” Zoey says. “It’s nice. Like we’re getting away with something.” Due to her sheer number of butterfly hair clips, she’s technically the most-dressed of the girls. Mira is down to one sock. Rumi is doing so bad she’s down to individual false eyelashes.
“None of us are getting away with anything,” Rumi says. “How are we so bad at this?” She’s still not even sure any of them are playing poker correctly, or by the same rules.
“I’m enjoying myself,” Zoey says with a leer, brows wagging.
“Eyes on your own cards, Zo,” Mira chides, her own steely gaze focused on her hand. Her vibrant pink hair sweeps down her shoulders, the ends tickling her bare breasts.
“I don’t think she’s staring at the cards, Mir.” Rumi inhales sharply, sharing a look with Zoey.
Mira glances up, catching the drift. “I fold,” she says, tossing her cards down. “I’m getting on the table. You two decide how you want me.”
“Hey, is that a Royal Flush?” Rumi gapes at the cards.
“Whatever! She wins, then,” Zoey says hurriedly, and brushes them away, letting them flutter to the floor before sliding between Mira’s legs.