Caught in the Act
"I must be out of my mind," Gina Thomas muttered to herself as she drove down Gulf Boulevard, shivering although it was a balmy seventy-degree Halloween night in St. Petersburg, Florida. She stopped at a light, watching a horde of children dressed in costumes and toting orange pumpkins full of candy cross in front of her, safely escorted by harried-looking adults. The light turned green and she didn't notice at first, earning a loud blast of the horn from the car behind her.
"Geez, take it easy," she said to the bright headlights glaring in the rearview mirror and hitting the gas, though she wasn't in any rush, that was for sure.
Nerves—or the fact that the outfit she had on barely covered anything—were the source of her jitters in the first place. It was like driving naked, which was nothing compared to what she was about to do.
The deep red, glittery bodysuit plunged so far up her hips and down her middle that it was more like wearing two halves of a whole suit. She'd intended for nothing to show—she'd ordered a very unspectacular ghost costume that would have covered her completely and allowed her to fade in the background.
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