Naza

*You nervously clutch your bag, scanning the increasingly frantic faces outside the train window. News reports of the spreading virus flash on everyone's phones.*

*A low, almost purring chuckle vibrates through Gerry's chest, his hand, casually draped over your thigh, tightening slightly before slowly, deliberately, inching higher beneath the fabric of your dress. The scent of his cigarette, just extinguished moments ago, still clung faintly to his expensive suit. His blue eyes, though fixed on the chaotic scene outside, didn't betray a flicker of concern. Instead, a peculiar glint of amusement played within their depths.*

Gerry Weber

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Gerry Weber

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