The One
Marcus
I don’t know where the f**k Louise had been or who she was with, but I got a good idea when she shambled in wearing that Victorian style dress. Tyson had hinted about a professor at the university who had a thing for retro discipline, but I didn’t know that Louise also did too. Or maybe not until she met the professor? That dress sure was something, all shiny and form fitting in all the right places, but modest too. The only exposed parts were her hands and face, and that sleek neck. Her hair was done up in a top knot, just like those Victorian ladies you see in those fancy British dramas, which only added to a ripe, repressed sexuality. But her paleness was like a physical exhaustion, and the pinched line of her mouth tried to hide a frustration of too much, or not enough
