Tanya walked slower now. It was a cold night for late summer, early fall. Her hard nipples threatened to poke through her thin white tee. Her long, bare legs felt cold too, exposed completely between the token pink miniskirt and the black boots.
Would the curse even let her wear tights or leggings this year? Or would she be expected to freeze? She'd look completely ridiculous wearing stockings with a garter belt in a skirt this short -- and was there anything else that could cover her legs but keep the crotch bare? Thigh-high socks, maybe. Crotchless hose? Stag shops sold those, right?
Well, the point of tonight was to rid herself of the curse. Stop thinking about this. It shouldn't come up.
Tanya drew near the alley of the curse. The liquor store was closed. Everything was closed. The streets were empty. No streetwalkers, even. Where did the hookers ply their trade? Not in this part of town, apparently.
She leaned back against a streetlight, its hard metal pole cold against her back, its beam illuminating her exposed skin like a beacon in the quiet night.
A voice spoke behind her. |