by Lisa McCourt Hollar
Seth couldn't take his eyes of Franny. The pilgrim costume she wore, was tight in all the right places. He felt himself harden, wishing her breasts were on the menu.
Nearly cutting a finger, his knife clashed against the gilded fork. Seth tried to keep his mind on the turkey. His gaze drifted back to Franny's, piercing green eyes. No one saw when, licking her lips, his cousin traced her nipple with a finger.
If she kept that up, he might cut off more than a pinkie.
When she slipped her hand under the table, Seth knew he was doomed.
Word Count: 100
My entry for Humpday Challenge, found at http://www.traceyhansen.com