Concern for the visual qualities of an objectMy phone call to the prison garnered no further information. I dropped the device onto the mattress with a sigh.
“No luck?” Julia dipped forward and used a towel to squeeze the moisture from her damp curls. They hung like coiled snakes waiting to spring. I shook my head in reply and focussed on the delicate red lace framing her underwear. She danced away with a giggle as I reached for her. “We both have places to be,” she chided. “Perhaps we should meet more often to continue the ruse?” She spoke the sentence as a question and I nodded, powerless against the clean floral scent emanating from her body. Her skin shimmered like silk as she moved to an armchair and gathered her dress. With a co-ordinated shimmy, she disappeared beneath the fabric a
