Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"I've wished for this, I've bitched at that, I've left behind this little fact, you cannot kill what you did not create..." ♫ Duality by Slipknot.
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"Cher, I'm gonna kill myself."
Oh, for Christ's sake.
"I'm stringing up a thong for rope as we speak."
Drama, drama, drama.
"This is it. Goodbye, cruel world. Oh, how I only wish I could see those titties one.. last.. time."
On the other side of my dressing room curtain in the downtown Chicago boutique, I could hear the dramatic sounds of choking from Harlow and as I finished zipping up the long gown, I snapped it open with my hands on my hips.
"Are you finished, asshole?"
Pausing his dramatic death against the wall, with a thong I gave for him to hold onto around his neck, he snapped one eye open, smirking at me, "Depends, are you fin..."
He went slack jawed when he saw the long, sleek gown on my body and dropped the joker façade to unwrap the panties from around his neck and gawk at me with a subtle choking noise. His eyes widened and he stepped away from the dressing room hallway wall, skimming his eyes down the tight fabric cinching my waist and the slit up the side that exposed my hip.
We were out shopping for prom dresses for Arthur's formal and this was my sixth this morning.
But, it seemed all of his waiting paid off, because I had a feeling, this was the one.
"So... what do you think?"
"Oh!" Harlow moaned and threw his arms up, tossing all of the clothes I asked him to hold onto the floor. He practically had a meltdown, taking several pacing steps before facing the wall and banging his fists into it, punctuating each word, "Fuck. Me. Baby. Please!"
I felt my cheeks heat but I played it off with a laugh, "Nirvana, don't make a scene..."
"Bloody hell," He looked over his shoulder at me but flinched like he couldn't stand the sight and faced the wall again, groaning dramatically as he slid down it, "God, what did I to deserve this?"
"I'm gonna give you ten more seconds."
He spun around, clutching his crotch as he stood up straight, "I'm havin' an emergency. Ten seconds is the perfect amount of time," He backed me up into the stall again, craning his neck to check for employees, "Lift the dress, baby, we'll fuck and dash outta' this bitch."
As tempted as I was seeing him in his tight black leather pants, baggy blue sweater and slicked hair with full accessories including earrings that made my panties disintegrate off my body--I knew the last thing he needed on his criminal record was public indecency.
