Mature Content and Sex scenes, recommended for R18+ audiences.
Emerson Roy is focused on one goal, nail her performance at this years ballet recital to be selected to a dance company. At 25 years of age, she knows that she needs to do everything i...
I slowly begin to concoct a plan, a smug little smile creeping on my face. I finish my shower in record time eager to get onto the next part of my plan, presentation is everything tonight. I secure my towel around me while fishing through my basin cabinet, pulling out the hairdryer and straighteners. My grand plan is to have the best night I can, and that starts with how great I want to look. Look good, feel good.
I've always taking great pride in my hair however styling is no easy feat. Luckily, I'm up for the challenge. It takes me a full 45 minutes but immerse the bathroom feeling amazing, having transformed my straight hair into long loose luscious curls, cascading in a half up, half down whilst leaving just enough hair out to frame my face. Highlighting my high cheekbones with just enough bronzer to enhance my natural structure, I stick with a natural looking eyeshadow but finish my look with a striking matte plum lipstick.
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I make my way over to my large walk in wardrobe, when I catch a glimpse of an outfit laid out on the bed. 'Thank you Abi' I smile to myself, she may be loud, but my girl's got taste. She could probably style me in a brown paper bag and still make me look cute.
She's carefully placed a fitted strapless pinstripe dress on the bed, adorned with intricate lace buttons, paired with a wide maroon leather belt and my Black Louboutin Ankle Boots, my favourite boots 'ever' I might add. After slipping into a cute red strapless bra and matching G string, I make short work of the buttons on my dress, give myself a final once over in my full-length mirror before heading back to the living room to join the party, a satisfied smile on my face.
"Hot dam Emerson. You look good enough to eat" booms Sam, a cheeky look in his eyes. God, I love that man, Jeremy is one lucky son of a bitch.
I hold out my arms and do a slow turn, being sure to swing a little extra in the hips for good measure. Pausing for dramatic effect, and glancing back over my shoulder at them, and finishing with an elaborate butt wiggle.
"You like?" I wink at them.
"We love!!!!!!" Abi screams, "now drink!"
Taking the champagne flute from her, we raise our glasses in toast.
"To us" we cheer in unison. The toast has been the same since the moment we could drink, never for love, never for best wishes, just to us. The three of us firm believers in staying true to who we were, so our toast was a secret reminder to each other - we are our own number one's.
"So, ladies, let's make a plan. Where are we headed and in who's bed will we be sleeping in tonight"
"Sam, we already know who's bed you will be in .... ooooh how about we head down to that new club on Main Street, I've heard it goes off" I suggest, dam what was the name, it'll come to me any minute now. My mind has a tendency to wander, so this change of subject mid-sentence is not unusual for me at all. Neither is my failure to remember a name!
