Mika

Seven-Mika

I laugh, my eyebrows crinkling. "Prey? What am I, a lion?"

Her jaw ticks. "A woman like you is clearly in the sex industry. It's a shame, really. Does it make you feel better about yourself to go around half-naked? Our innocent children don't deserve to be exposed to this type of conduct."

With an unbothered expression, I dip down to admire my incredible outfit. The way the fabric fits around my waist is like second skin. The aqua blue irregular patchwork cutout mini dress is as conservative as it gets. A row of small, geometric cutouts runs down the middle of my breast to my pierced belly button.

I don't see a problem with my outfit.

It could be my pierced nipples since it's quite cold in the shop, and I didn't bring a bra with me.

"It's not my job to bend to your nonsensical rules. If it bothers you so much, there are over ten coffee shops on this block alone. So, bye!" I shoo her as if I was spraying bug repent.

She glares daggers at me. "Never in my life have I met a woman proud enough to be known as a whore."

My tongue drags across the seam of my lips. "Are your comments supposed to demean me or something? If anything, you're humiliating yourself. It's a shame you aren't confident enough in yourself that you feel the need to bring down another woman with you."

Her gaze burn holes in my direction. "I don't support whores who fuck and steal other woman's husbands."

A giggle threatens to crack through. "That sounds a little personal... Is your husband cheating on you?"

Her green eyes widen probably in shock at how easy it is to decipher her. She isn't exactly doing a great job at hiding her animosity for escorts. Life is too short to be spent fighting with irrelevant people. At the end of the day, I am going home to my expensive, lavish penthouse, and she...

Should I give her the benefit of the doubt?

Without another word, she pushes through the horde, knocking coffee mugs with her shoulders. A few people whistle as she exits the store, but it didn't stop her from glaring back and sending a fuck you. For a split second, I feel bad for her daughter when she gets older. Hopefully, she doesn't turn out like her mother.

"That was awesome!" A woman exclaims, her airy voice coming from behind me.

Rotating on the heel of my stiletto, I'm faced with a short brunette, carrying her baby in her arms, jiggling him back and forth. Black frame glasses overwhelm her face, stealing attention away from her lovely, sweet complexion.

She's perfect for Diablo's Paraiso.

A smug smile stretches across my face. "I don't like people making assumptions about me because of the way I dress. She might've been right about my profession, but I'm not ashamed of it."

Her eyes bounce from my breasts to my eyes. I couldn't blame her for staring. My boobs are having a wonderful today, full, voluminous, perky. How could I not show them off? It's a crime to keep them hidden and compress them into this skin-tight dress.

"Hi, I'm Nancy." She puts her hand out for a shake, and I comply. "During the altercation, I purchased an extra caramel ice latte... Do you want it?"

I tap my chin with purse lips as I pretend to think about it. "Sounds good to me! I still got a few minutes to waste. Can I sit with you, or is that intruding?"

She switches her baby onto her other hip. "Of course! Don't mind my other daughter. If Cocomelon isn't on, she gets a bit antsy."

Nancy's gaze keeps sinking to my boobs for an extended period of time. Sometimes they wander to my bare thighs. Red splotches taint her neck and cheeks as she tries to shift her gaze onto other things, like her baby. Once he finishes his bottle, she places him over her shoulder and gently smacks his back for a burp.