My Front Page Scandal
One good yank and the biker dude’s distressed designer jeans came off.
Brooke Winfield glanced at the featureless bulge between his legs, reminded of playing dolls with her sisters. Joey was always the first to strip the Ken figurine to his plastic skin and make indecent overtures to the girl dolls, while Katie held disco parties for hers. Brooke didn’t actually play at all. She’d been more concerned with designing the dolls’ wardrobes and staging elaborate scenarios in their dream house.
“Thirty years old and I’m still dressing dolls,” she said to the nude male mannequin while she folded the jeans. With his boyish chest and aquiline nose, he was too high-fashion to make a believable biker dude. A leather bandanna and the tattoos she’d painted on his slender forearms were only surface dressing.
Brooke caught a glance of herself in the mirror on the back wall of the display area. The surface was what people noticed. Her surface, as usual, read ninety percent Boston conservative and ten percent creative—today, signified by the jangly tin fish earrings she’d bought last year at the Bazaar Bizarre, a p ... read full excerpt from: My Front Page Scandal ebook
