Once Tiffany had driven away, Mark turned around and asked Arianne, “What outfit has she bought for you? Why do you have to wear it at night?”
Arianne was too bashful to show her face. “Nothing. Stop asking.”
Mark was never one to wait for an answer from someone else’s lips. He pulled out the outfit, intending on finding out. When he had a clearer view of the outfit, he couldn’t help blushing then stuffing it back into its packaging.
At night, when Aristotle had fallen asleep, Mark pulled out the outfit. “Could you put this on?”
“No way!” Arianne objected bluntly. “Don’t tell me you’re into this sort of thing too!”
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