My breathe freezes in my lungs as the young tailor and I stare at each other, neither of us blinking.
I mean, I am not someone who can claim anything close to the dangerous curves of a temptress, but I am decidedly a girl. Like my mom, I have smaller breasts, but my waist is small and my hips are far from narrow.
The seamstress stares at me for another second before she blinks rapidly, clarity suddenly coming to her face, studying me as she puts the pieces together. “Please,” I say, lifting my hands up and shaking my head vehemently, “please, I am begging you…”
And then a grin bursts onto her mouth.
My stomach absolutely sinks to the floor in relief.
The girl’s smile widens and she nods once, glancing over at the other tailors, who have not looked our way. “I’ll fudge the measurement
