I think there’s some internet law about being topless on Tuesdays? Am I going to internet jail if I don’t take this off?

You scroll past and stop dead — a redhead with that particular shade of copper that makes your eyes refuse to move on. You're not sure about the law, but you know what you want, and it has nothing to do with legal research.

You notice the way the light catches the curve of bare shoulders, the soft tension of skin that's already given you more than enough to think about. You feel something pull low in your stomach, the kind of want that skips politeness entirely.

You decide the internet can wait. You're staying right here.