'Shut your mouth, girl! You will be no one's wife but mine, do you understand me?!' I whimpered as he pinned me to the bed and pressed his palm into my lower belly. 'This womb of yours shall only carry my children. Don't you even dare to think about...
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--Léon--
I wasn't sure what had fascinated me about such a little girl. Inexperienced, conservative and frustratingly timid. They weren't common in the casinos and clubs of Paris, I suppose. Perhaps that was what had intrigued me.
"Your champagne, sir." My fixation on the red velvet curtains of Allison's dressing room waned to the right at the store worker's entrance. A young and tenacious blonde with a set of blazing hazel eyes and characteristic dimples upon her lightly freckled face. She was polite - albeit indifferent - when she first greeted us from behind the cash register desk. But, now, she was all but unenthusiastic when tending to our needs, grinning until the corners of her mouth reached her ears. I glanced at the tall glass of bubbling yellow liquid in her hands and reached over to take it from her. It was always interesting how quickly a simple business card could put a pep to someone's step. "Is there anything else you would like?" She beamed as I tilted the lip of the glass back for a sip. The bitter, dry texture melded into my tongue and lingered with its taste even after I had swallowed. Hm, not bad. "Sir?"
I placed the glass down on the arm of the leather couch and cut my hooded gaze back to the worker who was idly swarming around me for approval she was not about to receive. The fizz of the champagne was beginning to settle into my stomach as I noticed the prolonged absence of Allison. "How about tending to your customer then? She's been in there for a while now," I replied dryly, the shift of my gaze directing her to the dressing room with Allison in it. Hurry it up. I came here to see Allison show herself off to me. Not for you to dawdle around here like some showgirl.
I rested my arm back on the head of the couch, staring expectantly at the drawn curtains as the worker rushed her apologies and hurried over to the dressing room.
A few minutes passed after she had disappeared behind its curtain and I had resigned to waiting with my chin resting on my knuckles. There was a tight-fitted dress that I had approved of and was particularly keen on seeing Allison squeeze into. For a girl who made the effort to hide her body in modest pieces of loose clothing, it stroked a nerve of excitement within my loins to imagine the cling of the dress against her curves. Sculpting what lay just beneath a thin lining of fabric.
The still gaze I had fixed onto the curtain in anticipation may have even allowed my mind to indulge into its imagination a little too much. After all, how could I not? Beyond that flimsy curtain, Allison would be peeling away the layers of her clothes and exposing skin that had never been seen by any man besides those in her family. Oh, how effortless it would be to become the first. All it would need was a few steps and a draw of the curtain to see everything my mind desired.
Soft, pearly skin lining over every one of her curves and dips. I wonder what kind of underwear she preferred to wear? I was accustomed to the sheer, lacy sets of the women I was frequented by at the clubs of Paris' red-light district. But, I suspected a homely girl like Allison would blush in embarrassment at the sight of those scandalous pieces. As much as I would love to see her dressed in a nice, frilly set of lingerie, her choices would most likely align with a more utilitarian and plain pair - matching I hoped.
