when we met. z/zipper.
“I don’t know why you’re making me try on this dress, Paige,” I said from inside the dressing room. “It’s far too revealing. When am I ever going to wear this?”
She didn’t answer, but I knew she was standing there rolling her eyes at me. I sighed and pulled on the little black dress. When I saw my reflection, I smiled. Paige was right—it was beautiful. And it looked good on me. But I still didn’t know when I’d ever wear it.
“Paige?” I called to her. “Can you help me with the zipper?”
I opened the dressing room door and gasped at the man who stood before me. Intense eyes. A breathtaking smile. Perfect hair—just long enough to be a bit messy and entirely sexy. And he looked like he’d just run his fingers through it. He was tall and lean and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“I’m not Paige,” he said, “but I’d be happy to help you with the zipper.”
p.s. — Please pretend the lovely couple above is in a fancy department store dressing room. Also, since you cannot really see the face of Mr. Unknown Hot Guy, I will supply a random picture of another hot guy.
Why yes, my sexy Italian, I would love to join you in your nice cozy bed.
p.p.s. — I hate that my last a-to-z post is so short. I tried to make it longer, but everything I added felt like useless filler.
Hot guy zipping (or unzipping?) her dress: Unknown man who is totally is my type. (I have a type. Surely you’ve noticed.)
Bonus Hot guy: I’ll give you one guess. Right! My favorite model, the perfect Italian, Simone Bredariol. (It had to be done.) (Did I mention I found a video of him? Speaking? English with a sexy-as-fuck Italian accent? I almost had a heart attack. Sexiness overload.)