Chapter Five“Chin down. Slant those eyes, love. A little more smile. No ... no, too much. Don’t give me teeth, Vikki. Better.” Click. Whirl. Click. “Much better. Lift your arm over your head. Gracefully, love, you’re not heaving a gunny sack.” Click. Whirl. “Relax a bit. Ruffle the hair. Lick the lips. Turn your head slightly. Yes ... yes ... damn, you lost it.”
Peter Finch crawled along the carpeted riser on denim-covered knees and ended up resting is square chin on top of Vikki’s bare thigh. “From the neck down you are Vixen.”
Half-hooded gray eyes became a roller coaster, flowing across the lush curves and angles of Vikki’s supine form, derailing over two encounters with charmeuse silk ruffled briefs and a bow tied bandeau. “Unfortunately your pensive little mug is
