don’t know what you want me to say.”
I want you to be overcome with lust, that’s what. So much for the skirt’s man-attracting potential.
“The sweatpants make it look lumpy. Why don’t you put it on?”
“All right, I will.”
Gwen returned to the bedroom, suspecting that the reason she hadn’t put the skirt on in the first place was because if Alec was overcome with lust, she’d forget that she’d given up men and men like Alec were exactly the reason why. He’d talked about Laurie being high-maintenance, but if he took off his shirt—a pleasant, but distracting prospect—he’d have “high-maintenance” tattooed across his chest.
Already, she’d offered him her car and helped him with his love life—a love life that didn’t include her. Now, she was putting on the skirt after she swore she wouldn’t just so he’d find her attractive. And she’d just cooked dinner for him. Hadn’t she?
Gwen stepped into the skirt, thinking that she probably ought to put on panty hose, and pulled it up. Pulled…now more of an easing…sucked in her stomach…more…gave up on fastening the hook until after the zipper was zipped…zipped two inches and…
And staring in horror as her white, pizza-filled belly remained exposed because her hips and thighs had taken up all the room in the skirt.
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