Her gloved fingers effortlessly glided the yarn through the needle, as she continued sewing up your attire. It was no doubt that she was the best in her line of work.

A black gloved hand snaked up to your midsection as she held it in place— she wasn’t very big on patience.

“Move one more time and you’ll mess me up.” The brunette scolded, her amber eyes focused on the lace around your waist.

A few beats passed before she spoke again;

“Why’re you staring at me like that? You’re not being discreet at all.” Her usual criticizing voice was a tad bit softer, and intertwined with a teasing tone.