At least every fifteen minutes, one of the diva’s tried to make off with a jewel. One even went as far as to demand a trunk load of the designer dresses, claiming they were his own, and forcing them to intervene. How they managed to stuff so many kleptos into one room was beyond him. The only thing keeping him from snapping was the sight of Flower. She chose a gown of deep green that matched her eyes exactly, and it dipped so low in the back that it ended right at the top of her perfectly shaped ass. Just as he thought he might be getting accustomed to the view from behind, she turned, giving him the full frontal view. The sight nearly knocked him on his ass. The dress dipped almost as low in the front, and there wasn’t much left to the imagination, but he was cool with it; so was every other man in the room, even some of the ones dressed like women. What did bother him was the Mr. Sleek asshole that spent the entire night trailing her. He knew a little bit about reading body language.
