Art by Fraylim: A Girl's Night In

Cindy's looking a little anxious there, don't you think? It might be the strain of fitting in with "the girls" on a Friday night. Another lovely piece of art by Fraylim, accompanying the next chapter, dropping early next week:

"Returning with drinks precariously balanced on a tray, I walked with the practiced rolling gait of a careful maid, the one I’d learned at Julia’s last weekend. End credits scrolled in silence as Emma and Mel faced off:

            “All I’m saying – look, the original was fun, it was silly princess bullshit, what’s the point of turning it into this dark dystopian shit?”

            “That’s the point,” Emma insisted. “It’s—ironic, you know, like subversive—the Genovia dystopia, that’s us, right? The movie’s from ’47, writers saw what was happening. If the GCA passes congress—”

            Mel groaned. “For fuck’s sake, Em, you promised! No politics, remember?” She saw me, reached for her drink. “And you sure took your fucking time,” she added. She sipped chilled vodka and vermouth, hissed with pleasure. “But I’ll forgive you. Fuck, princess, you make a good martini.”

            I gave a little curtsy of acknowledgment.

            “But you liked it, right, Cindy?” Emma asked, her voice both imploring and insistent.

            Mel snorted. “It’s got princesses, cute boys, sparkles and tiaras. Of course she liked it. I mean, fucking look at her, prissy little bitch looks like she just stepped out of Genovia.” She wasn’t entirely wrong. Emma instructed us to dress down for a night in, and I’d gone for this vintage-style halter-top minidress, ivory with pink polka-dot print with a high neckline and low in the back. It barely cleared my thighs and left my shoulders bare. Pink earrings and pink ankle-strap heels, pink lipstick and gloss, too: it was comfy enough (other than the push-up bra) but maybe sort of overkill, one part tradwife to one part flirt. I’m not sure why I picked it, to be honest. A night in loose jeans and a hoodie: nice and cozy. Although the effort wasn’t wasted. Emma beamed with joy when she opened the door, and Willow gushed her approval. As for Mel—the way she kept looking at me, and licking her lips: each time, a little shiver raced up and down my spine.