(no subject)
Tory feels like a voyeur with her constant stolen glances at the schoolteacher. But she can’t help the compulsion to stare. It was easier when she wore those dowdy suits to squelch such urges. Easier to keep her eyes trained above Roslin’s waist. Not anymore. Not since the casual clothes and the tighter shirts that remind the former aide how much of a woman Roslin is. Now Tory finds it hard to look her in the eye without blushing. Not because she keeps picturing Roslin in that amazing red dress. But because she keeps picturing Roslin out of it more.