"Why?"
"Because I said so! Close them!"
I closed them. Mostly. Survival instincts won over obedience.
I heard the soft pad of feet on carpet. The rustle of fabric. The quiet jingling of what might have been bells.
"Open!"
Harlow stood about six feet away, arms spread, wearing the vampire maid costume. The black dress hugged her waist before flaring out at the hips, the skirt hitting mid-thigh. White lace lined the edges. The apron sat tied in a neat bow at her lower back. Red ribbons crisscrossed up her torso. The costume covered everything important, technically.
But the way the fabric clung to her curves, the way the neckline sat just low enough to suggest without showing, the way her legs looked in those black thigh-highs with little bat patterns...
Troublesome.
She twirled, and the skirt lifted slightly. "What do you think?"
"It's fine."
"Fine?" She stopped spinning, hands on her hips. "Isaiah, I spent six hours on this dress! Fine is not helpful feedback!"
