4
"How can I put this?" Ash sat on the red velvet chaise, long legs outstretched, ankles crossed. He tapped his cheek with one strong finger and regarded my outfit thoughtfully.
"I look like a hooker," I finished for him, inspecting my reflection in the wall of mirrors.
We occupied the private sitting room in a boutique on Riverside Drive, the Rodeo Drive of Roxburg. The perfectly groomed shop assistant had ushered us in and gushed over Ash, assuring him she would get anything—anything—he wanted. I got the feeling she wasn't referring to clothing me since she hardly looked at me. She'd then proceeded to fetch outfits that were all wrong for my body shape. The hooker ensemble of micro-mini and midriff-baring top was actually a step up from the dresses that were two sizes too big.
I stud
