Zoe rolled her eyes again and ignored the insult as she pulled her metal nail file out of her purse and started cutting through the packing tape. She pulled a large white garment bag out of the packing container and tossed what looked like a note and invoice back in the box, which she then shoved on the floor so she could lay out the bag.
“So how do I turn Betty Boop into a riddle that says career consultant-slash-business manager-slash-troubleshooter-with-commitment issues?” she asked as she unzipped the bag.
Meghan snorted. “I didn’t know about the career requirement when I ordered it. But in your case, you can just wear sneakers and carry your BlackBerry and a cap gun.”
Zoe’s grin faded to a frown when her fingers encountered leather. Betty didn’t wear leather, did she? She pulled the hanger from the bag, holding the outfit out at arm’s length.
“Holy shit.” She dropped the hanger and jumped back a foot, staring in openmouthed horror at the slinky mound of black leather on her bed. Her eyes shifted to the rest of the outfit which had fallen from the bag when she pulled out the costume. A studded collar, black mask and riding crop.
Shock, fascination and an insane urge to giggle fluttered in Zoe’s stomach as she stared.
“You should have gone with the spy costume. There’s no way in hell I’m going down there in this.” Zoe eyed the black leather again and couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Although I have to admit, nobody would ever call me as a virgin again after I walked in dressed like a dominatrix.”
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