Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I clasp my hands over my open mouth. “Oh, my God! Yes, that’s it!” Jeanette poses and then stalks back, finishing the lap up and down the runway.
Grinning, I high-five her with both hands, jumping up and down in excitement.
I’m still worried the garments themselves aren’t enough compared to the drama of the others’, but showing my pieces at their best is all I can do at this point.
“Loose bedhead waves, smudged black eyeliner, and red lips,” I confirm with the hair and makeup team. “I want them to look F-F.” When one of the artists looks at me, I explain, “Freshly fucked. A little undone and messy. But only a little.”
“Ah, as though they simply laid there until the man came and then . . .” The artist waves his hands in front of his groin one time. “Fini.”
When everyone’s on the same page, I stand back. My models are lined up, ready to get glammed so we can dress them.
“Fashion show dos in una hora!” Molly sings in accented Spanish instead of French, horribly off-key but happy nonetheless. “We got this, ladies! They want seduction? We’ll have a full-fledged orgy on our hands by the end of this runway. Fo’ sho’!” She bites her lip as she pumps her hips obscenely, smacking the air in front of her like it’s a lover’s ass. “You like that? That’s what I thought, my little slut.”
I can’t help but laugh at her silliness. I bet Molly would have a ball at the sex club Simon took me to. Well, a ball, or maybe a ball-gag.
“It’ll be a mess of writhing bodies, hands and mouths and dicks all over the place.” She wiggles her body, hands all over her own breasts as she looks left and right as though seeing people surrounding her. “Oh, what’s that? Why, yes, I will . . .” She mimics sucking a cock, and then looks elsewhere. “Oh, and one of these?” She licks the air, her tongue flicking wildly.
Beatrice leans over to whisper to me, “Is she serious? This is not what ‘seduction’ means in France. Perhaps there’s a translation error?”
My chest bounces as I try to corral my laughter. “No, I think Molly’s a bit sex-starved, though. She needs to get laid.”
“Hmm,” Beatrice says, unconvinced.
My first model returns, looking perfect. “Oui! Let’s get you dressed.” It’s the same for models two through four, and then Jeanette returns.
Her short curls are combed out into a fluffy halo, making her look soft and sweet. But the sultry eye makeup says she’s anything but. It’s absolutely perfect.
We quickly work to get her into the silk gown. I decided this morning, nearly at the last minute, that the back of the dress did need something more, so I sewed small buttons from the nape to the walking slit. Twenty-five buttons in two hours. Was it what I should’ve spent that time doing? No. Am I glad I did, seeing it on Jeanette now? Absolutely. Even if my hand is still cramping.
The buttons aren’t functional, merely decorative, but it gives the back a touch of more. I’m still not sure it’s enough, but it’s too late for anything else now.
Looking out from behind the curtain, I can see the rows of chairs lined up once again. And they’re filling up fast.
Jacqueline, Albert, and Simon are already seated, though they didn’t come backstage to greet us this time. Tobias is wandering around, offering compliments and Valium, though I think he’s kidding about the latter.
On second thought, I could use a bit of a chill pill right now. I’m more nervous for this show than I was the last one.
Katarina opens the show this time, and fuck, she sets the bar high. Like stratosphere high. When her leather gown appears, there’s an audible gasp from the audience and I lock eyes with Molly.
“Shit,” she mouths. I don’t say it but I’m thinking the same thing.
Yori’s collection goes next, and despite her worries, she’s harnessed her cultural background and personal style with a series of outfits that play off geisha, video games, and maybe even off the ridiculous anime that she complained about. My favorite part is her styling, with each model in lug-soled boots and knee socks in various stages of falling down.
The result? A sultry yet innocent vibe that knocks it out of the park. Yori’s brand of seduction, wrapped up in one collection.
As Molly’s models begin their turn, my eyes drift to Simon. He’s watching the show with a neutral face, but as if he can feel my eyes on him, he finds me in the curtains at the side of the runway. I purse my lips, sending him a kiss, and he responds with a small and secretive smile, raising one brow devilishly. The tiny move promises all sorts of things—like a pink ass, a soaked pussy, and so many orgasms I might pass out before he’s done with me.