Selena ducked into the ladies’ room, yet again. She was nervous to the point of paranoia: she was sure that the prosthesis were slipping, though every time she glanced down at herself, they appeared to be fine.
She checked under the stall doors for other wedding guests, making sure that she was completely alone. She hesitated, then locked the bathroom door from the inside. No way she wanted anyone catching her checking things under her dress. No way she was ready to tell anyone that she worked with what she’d decided to do. Not yet; maybe not ever.
Selena undid the zipper at the side of her flirty little dress that showed off her long, lean legs. She slid the straps off her toned shoulders, pulled the dress down to her waist. Now she was just in her bra from the waist up, and she bit her
