I glanced around at the girl and I tilted my head again.
Ivory was thin, hard-boiled, subtilet. No fat bulges around the pelvis, tiny fingers, long nails, claws, a chain between breasts. Five-twenty. But in her view, it was a spark. Her body was energy. I suddenly thought it was not one of those lump fleshes that could be seen at the grocery store. This was a fucking modern who's sitting well and calm in her chin; girl in position, girl somebody.