Short shorts were not the same as mini skirts. In fear of a wardrobe malfunction, Pudica continued pulling on her dress which conformed tightly to the shape of her body. She shouldn’t have agreed to the vibrant red color. The fabric screamed “look at me.” And in the way Oliver gawked, the outfit might persuade other men to touch it. Aunt Betsy said it wasn’t as revealing as Pudica thought although that didn’t make her feel better.
“Damn, that’s a nice booty,” Oliver whispered in Pudica’s ear.
“Oliver, I heard that.” Aunt Betsy tapped him on the arm with the back of her hand and moved toward the railings, from where she had a view of the first floor. Two men in aprons walked across it, carrying trays of steak.
“What? She’s my wife,” said Oliver while Pudica giggled.
