“It’s twenty-five to.”The clack of boots on the corridor floor announced Mia’s arrival before she swept in. Long jacket, short skirt, high boo...s laced all the way up the front. All pale blue. Grace wished she could look like that. Though it must have taken five minutes just to put those boots on.“Hi,” Mia smiled round, till her gaze ended on Mohammad. “How did I guess?”“Guess?” asked Grace.“He said quarter to nine, to me. I’m early.”“Oh.”“I said half past to quarter to, I expect,” claimed. She used to do that to me. When we were together, in the beginning, she'd stroke my side when we were together, just like she's doing to him now. It was easy for her to do that in public. No one had to know how intimate that touch really was.And then she'd giggle, lift up on her toes, and whisper something salacious and suggestive guaranteed to make me shiver. Then she'd blush. And I'd melt. It was a cheap trick, and it worked every time.I should know. I taught her how to do that.Not the blush.. More

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