Thirty minutes later, Daphne and I have utterly ignored Luca’s objections and turned me out in what is actually a pretty convincing facsimile of her outfit, hair, and makeup.
“I mean, you’re shorter than me,” Daphne says, gnawing on her thumb nail as I slowly turn in a circle for her, letting her observe the effect of the long skirt she so hastily hemmed to my height and the jacket she nipped in at the waist and chest. “And I don’t like that we just rolled up those sleeves – here, take it off, I’ll hem those too –“
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