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“His hand leaves the back of the seat. He places it, instead, flat on my thigh. He looks at me, not at the men. “That’s enough.” I feel my cheeks flush. I set my glass down. Then he turns to the table—composed, gracious. “Gentlemen, don’t encourage her,” he says, his tone lighter.” — Isabel van Loen
His hand leaves the back of the seat. He places it, instead, flat on my thigh. He looks at me, not at the men.
“That’s enough.”
I feel my cheeks flush. I set my glass down.
Then he turns to the table—composed, gracious.
“Gentlemen, don’t encourage her,” he says, his tone lighter.