“Will I be asked to speak, do you think? You know, something like toasting the bride and groom?” Sally asked as she posed in front of a full-length mirror, tugging at the neckline of a Pepto-Bismol pink dress. “Oh, I’m sorry; I’m hogging the mirror. I’m sure you want to check yourself.” “That’s not necessary,” I said absently, turning in my hands a scanty bit of lamé and leather that Magoth had produced as proper consort wear. “He has to be kidding. This isn’t enough to cover a hamster, let alon...e a woman.” “Well, you are positively tiny,” Sally said, turning around so she could examine her backside in the mirror. “Do you think the bow at the derriere is too much? I think it adds a sort of jaunty touch, but if you think it’s out of line with the gravity of the moment, I can snip it off.” I shook out the consort garment in hopes it would magically enlarge, sighing when it remained a pathetic little contraption made up of leather straps and what I assumed were strategically placed bits of cloth.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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