“Shit,” I declared in the most unladylike of ways. Tipping back onto my rump afforded me a better perspective on Sonya Sterling’s matching cashmere twin set in the most spring-like hue of green. From this perspective, she appeared seven feet tall and seventy pounds in total. Sonya straightened her simple Paloma Picasso gold cross earrings and re-tucked her crown of highlighted hair behind her ears as I slid, crotch first, out from under the table.
“Well hello there,” she purred as I rose to meet her smirk. With legs like a gazelle and hips narrower than her Coach satchel, Sonya appeared to be little more than a walking stick, the human form of the insect which everyone pretends to find so fascinating yet which actually creeps out those not afraid to admit it.