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Doesn’t Truly Matter

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Mini feels certain enough when she slips out of her dress, but when Franky steps close, still dressed in that weird hipster suit, she laughs, a little self-conscious. “So, uhm… am I the girl, or…?”

Franky leans into her, smiling; strong hands framing Mini’s jaw. “Do you want to be the girl?”

Mini shrugs, fascinated as ever by the stark lines of Franky’s face, the intensity of those dark eyes. “I guess. Don’t you care?”

Franky undresses casually, baring long, pale limbs. “I really don’t.”

Mini swallows, heated by desire, and puts her hands on Franky’s hips. “Weirdo. Okay, then.”