Jordan shifted his bulk, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit on the small stool.
“This is nuts, you know that?”
Molly leaned closer, standing on tiptoe.
“Almost done… there. How’s that feel?”
Jordan blinked, the long lashes flicking his cheeks and eyebrows. They were surprisingly heavy.
He started to screw up his eyes to make a face, and then caught himself. He didn’t want to ruin them, and with his strength, he’d probably tear the glue right off.
Instead, he picked up a hand mirror and held it at arm’s length.
“I don’t look anything like a girl. When was the last time you saw a girl built like this?”
Molly clicked her tongue. “You’re not supposed to look like a girl. Not a chance of that. But who’s going to suspect that the six-and-a-half-foot drag queen in size 18 pumps and a fuchsia minidress is actually the manly hero, Strongarm, walking down The Alley at two in the morning?”