Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
A choked sound interrupts my fantasy. Panicked, I jerk around.
“Are you okay, sir? Do you need some water?” a soft voice sounds just outside the curtain.
Blushing, I kick my underwear in the back corner. What the hell was I doing? Leka doesn’t care about my body. I’m a girl to him. He’d be the one dying of embarrassment if he knew the contents of my head.
“No, I’m fine,” says Leka in a husky voice.
There’s more soft murmuring, and then Catherine’s voice is outside my curtain. “I have some dresses for you. Are you ready?”
“I guess.”
Without warning, Catherine sweeps in. I duck back, covering myself.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ve seen it all before.” She hangs up a few dresses and then sticks out her hand. In it is a contraption made of lace and satin. “This is a special corset that will help all these dresses fit just a bit better. We want to make the most of your assets.”
“She’s fifteen,” Leka interjects loudly beyond the curtain.
Catherine winks at me. “Of course, she is.”
She gestures for me to take the corset. I step into it, and Catherine pulls the lace ties tight, tying them in a bow at the base of my spine. Once that’s on, she helps me into the first dress. It’s a deep red and has tiny sleeves that sit just below the shoulder. There are tiny sparkling crystals that run along the upper border of the neckline.
“This is a modified sweetheart bodice,” she says, zipping me up.
I stare in wide-eyed amazement as two swells appear above the crystals. “Wow, I have cleavage,” I say in awe. I run my hand over my mounded breasts.
“Yes, good undergarments are the key. What do you think?”
I give a twirl. The diaphanous fabric of the skirt swirls around me. “I feel like a princess,” I admit. At least from the neck down. I scrunch up my nose. My face is never going to stop traffic. My heavy brows still look like caterpillars across my forehead, and my hair would rival Medusa. Too bad there’s not a corset for my head.
“Why would you need that?” Catherine asks.
“Need what?” I say in surprise. I’d lost the train of our conversation.
“Why would you need a corset for your head?”
“Oh, I said that out loud, huh?”
She cocks her head and looks at me in the mirror. “Honey, you’re gorgeous. I hope you realize that. You have eyelashes most women would kill for. Your cheekbones are amazing, and I’m guessing that your lips are all natural.”
Self-consciously, I press my fat lips together. “Um, you’re nice to say that, but—”
She doesn’t let me finish. She places a hand in the middle of my back and pushes me forward. “Take a good look at yourself. What do you see?”
Homely thing, isn’t she?
Pizza face!
No one’s going to eat if you’re out here taking orders and delivering food.
“I see me.”
“No, you don’t.” Catherine shakes her head. “You see some version of yourself, but it’s not the real one. I see this all the time with girls. You don’t know what to make of the gifts you’ve got.” Her hand reaches up to pat my head. “I bet you’ve never been to a real salon, have you?”
“Um, no.”
She pulls a pen out of her pocket and writes down a phone number. “You call this number and ask for Louis. Tell him Catherine from Divine Dresses sent you. He’s hard to get in to, but for me, he’ll make time. Ask him to do a keratin treatment, a brow wax, and a curl for those eyelashes. Now, let’s get you into the blue dress. I think you’re really going to like that one.
The moment that the wispy blue material settles around my legs, I fall in love. The dress creates an illusion of prettiness that I never felt before. I pinch a bit of fabric in each hand and twirl to the right and left. The light catches on the tiny crystals sewn into the skirt. Tiny puff sleeves and a neckline that shows off my collarbones
“I love this,” the saleslady declares. She fusses with one of the tiny puff sleeves. “It’s classy and wholesome but still adult. Do you want to show this to your…” She stops and looks for guidance.
“Leka,” I supply.
“Do you want to show Leka your dress?” she finishes smoothly.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever felt beautiful, even with my beetle brows, wild hair, and uneven complexion. In this dress, I feel like a princess.
“Yes,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I’m afraid that if I breathe wrong, the image will blow away like a sand sketch on the boulevard.
“Go.” She pushes me toward the curtain. “Show your friend.”
Without even hesitating, I sweep the curtain aside. Leka’s sprawled in the upholstered chair with one ankle resting on his knee.