Peacocks in the Front Yard, Patty/Ellen, R

fictorium:

Friday night - staying in. Patty/Ellen.

Patty checks her watch again, discreetly. The flawless Cartier face says it’s already approaching nine, and Ellen is showing no signs of stirring. 

“Ellen,” Patty says carefully, intent on knowing one way or the other. “Shouldn’t you be getting changed?”

“You don’t like these pants?” Ellen asks, fiddling with the television remote. “You picked them.”

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Excuse me while go cry die in the corner, thank you! :) Also, this was just too funny because of clothes and moist.