Just lucky, her little voice smirked.
The skirt was tiny. Worse, it had been hemmed at least twice that she could remember, and was barely a hand’s breadth from downright illegal. It was hard to believe that she’d worn the thing in public, for God’s sake—worn it without panties, and given Fletcher a whole series of peep shows that had kept him interested and hot for her. Lord, what a slut she had been.
Quit calling on the Lord, the voice in her head growled. It’s too late for you to turn into a believer now, Sarah dear.
She struggled into the skirt, wriggling to get it over her hips, and zipped it tight, then tried without success to pull it down on her legs. There were belt loops, so she pulled the heavy belt out of her jeans and put it on, looking around hopelessly again for panties,
