Valentina let the usher lead her to her seat and thanked her when she got there. She pretended not to see the people staring at her and her sister. They had dressed to kill and yes, who couldn't recognise a Dubois? They were iconic. They had generations of icons backing them too.
She looked at her sister, taking in everything about her. A pretty black dress that flowed over her breasts and stopped right under them. Below her bosom was bare skin that was interrupted by a black crisscross of ribbons that met her skirt. If you could call it a skirt. The skirt showed her bare thighs every time she took a step forward. Her skin-coloured heels made it almost look like she was walking on her tiptoes.
