Chapter Twenty-Six
When Tara turns up to Rouge again that weekend, she's dressed in a skin-tight black dress that hugs her thighs, the sleeves long and flowing past her fingers. Her hair has been brushed back into a high ponytail, thick dark locks brushing against the exposed area of her back. The makeup she has on isn't too cached, just enough to cover the bags under her eyes and make the dark smolder in them more prominent. Her lips feel full and slicked with gloss. She feels pretty – knows that she suits this persona when she steps up to the bouncer at the front and a few people turn to stare hungrily at the exposed skin of her thighs – but her delight at having to dress up is overshadowed by the anxiety that curls around her heart, suffocating her. She knows it's dangerous to turn up at the club agai
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