Pretty Things の小説・ストーリー

The next day, both Nancy and Primrose were extremely excited about their trip to Country Y. They woke up early to do their makeup and put on beautiful dresses. Today, Primrose chose a simple black off-shoulder dress that accentuated her slender neck and alluring shoulders. She also added a pair of luxury-brand sunglasses to look even cooler. Primrose was very satisfied with her current appearance.

So cute. My drunk beauty ......

Meanwhile total mayhem had broken loose at Leo Ad Agency after Jessica Williams walked in with head held high, tower heels clicking and spotted Amber Honey enjoying being the centre of attention at the reception. Wearing a sexy pink and white co-ord lycra bodycon skirt- shirt officewear which seductively highlighted her perfect curves, her plump lips painted fuchsia pink, Amber Honey with her flawless pinkish skin and waist length blonde hair with Burgundy highlights and curls at the ends looked like a gorgeous Hollywood movie heroine.

“Not gonna lie, kid. You dress fancier than anyone I’ve seen at this place.” I grinned, doing a little spin to show off my outfit. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear Carl.” This morning’s look was a light green chiffon button-up, breezy and elegant, tucked into white flared jeans. My Mary Jane pumps clicked softly against the marble floor, and my wig—styled into a sleek ponytail—felt secure on my head. A strawberry pin sat proudly on my shirt, perfectly matching the pink lip tint I had swiped on before leaving the house.

She smiles as if they are having a friendly conversation. Pretty’s cheeks color and I unintentionally let out a chuckle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to make conversation. When I’m nervous, I tend to say weird things.” “I’m not offended, darling,” she says, still in a British accent. “Will you please introduce us?” Esther looks at me expectantly. “Pretty, this is Princess Esther Anne Carnegie, or is it Du Pont now?” “It’s Du Pont,” she nods, her face blank.

Maybe today wasn’t going to be so bad after all. We walked over to the table, and as we got closer, I saw there was already someone sitting there—a really pretty girl who looked like she could be in a magazine or one of those fashion ads on TV. She had smooth, dark brown skin that looked soft and glowing, and her hair was done in long, neat braids that fell perfectly over her shoulders. She wore a light purple sweater with small sparkles on it, paired with ripped jeans and white sneakers. Everything about her screamed confidence and style, like she knew exactly how to look good without even trying.

“Yes. Option A: can be something sentimental. Option B: hot. Option C: something pretty valuable. I blink at her. “Here I was thinking that’s all we’ve been doing all day. And what do you mean by valuable?” She grins like a villain. “I think when he sees you in a very beautiful, very very beautiful outfit he might have a heart attack.” “…You’re insane.” “And here I was thinking I was being helpful,” she shoots back. Fair point. We stop in front of a watch store, and she gestures dramatically like she’s unveiling a masterpiece. “Boom. Classic. Rich man gift.”

“We’ll keep watch, okay? Daddy will come home soon.” But as the minutes stretched into an hour, fatigue settled in. The sun blazed hotter, and the shimmering water looked more inviting. “I just want to dip my feet,” Pretty murmured, edging toward the pool. “Be careful,” Beauty pleaded. “Don’t go close.” Pretty slid off her sandals and dipped her toes, giggling as the coolness washed over her burning skin. “It feels nice…” she said, smiling weakly for the first time all day. But then she leaned forward too far. Her small hands slipped against the wet tiles.

I picked it up. Mum. Good morning my darling. I found something I think could really help you. A lot of girls your age are doing this and the results are amazing. It’s simple and sustainable. Check the link 💕 The preview loaded on its own. Split-screen before-and-after. Left side: a woman who looked perfectly fine—soft, real, curvy like me. Right side: the same woman, smaller, smiling that wide, bright, finally acceptable smile.

The desk dug into the small of my back, holding me upright as he pressed forward, the hard line of his erection unmistakable against my hip through his tailored slacks. “Do you always show up to work like this… wet, bare, and so damn tempting?" he continued, voice rough with approval. “Or is today my lucky day?” I’d ditched wearing panties months ago after seeing some late-night TV segment about breathability and feminine health—best decision I’d ever made, especially now, with Blackwell’s fingers sliding against me with nothing in the way.