Tales From the Velvet Trap #6
<p>Violet stood fidgeting. She took a deep breath and dried her moist palms on her skirt. The room was heavy with the lingering musk of cologne and tobacco. Since Vivian wasn’t a smoker, Violet assumed she recently had a guest who was. Adorned with the masculine luxury of dark woods and leather, Vivian’s living room felt worlds away from the life Violet knew.</p>
<p>Vivian removed her tuxedo jacket and poured two glasses of whiskey. The light caught the sharp angles of her face, highlighting her intimidating beauty. As usual, Violet wondered how much of her yearning was for Vivian herself and how much was the freedom she represented.</p>
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