Novel & Cerita Candies Skirts

At this rate, I’d have to start selling my organs. Before I could wallow in my financial despair, my phone vibrated with a notification. Estergram: Cincel’s new skirt line ‘Boudoir’ is now available! I clicked the link out of curiosity, scrolling through the pictures. The skirts were gorgeous—flowy, sleek, bold. One caught my eye. A black, thigh-slit masterpiece that screamed confidence. I smirked, nudging Suzu with my foot. “I’d look good in that skirt, right?”

"Yeah, so can we skip this stupid thing with Ms. Salata, or wha..." I saw my colleague's apt entrance at the same time the girls did. "Jesus Christ, Candace..." Really, she'd earned the moniker of Candy now more than ever, but I reached for the more familiar term of address by reflex. The outfit itself was actually quite simple. Black stockings ending mid-thigh, held up by suspenders. A black mini skirt with pin stripes that, not unlike Abbie's, couldn't be covering more than an inch or two below her pussy, with the same margin above her ass. Where did one get such an outfit? With her slight build and the tightness of the skirt, it was like she'd found it at a rummage sale for pre-teen skank

She was straightforward but not arrogant and very cute. Charlie frowned. “Where are your shoes?” Nicole ran back to get her shoes. As she turned around, Charlie saw that her back was exposed all the way to her waist. “…Go upstairs and change that beggar’s skirt.” “What beggar’s skirt? This was designed by a very talented designer! You don’t get it, big brother!” Nicole retorted. “Go change.” Charlie’s tone was a bit stern. Nicole angrily carried the skirt upstairs. “Actually, I think the skirt has some creative ideas. Don’t be so old-fashioned,” Candice said, knowing that he couldn’t stand his sister showing any skin.

Did she miss the memo? Spread out before them was an assembly line of sugar-coated almonds, heart-shaped chocolates, and miniature bottles of liqueur surrounded by rolls of gauzy fabric and cards of ribbon. Cassie had thought this was just another get-to-know-you lunch, she didn’t realize she would be pressed into slave labor.

Maddy tried on every single thing she brought and some of my clothes and then spent ages making me and Charlie her personal barbies until we all agreed on our final outfit choices. Maddy decided that she loved my tattoos and wanted to show as many of them as possible so I ended up in a very short high waisted black leather skirt and a fitted dark blue lacy crop top with multiple straps that criss-cross at the back. I had to admit, I did look pretty good.

“Organza,” Eliza purrs. My eyebrows rise. “Oh.” Jeez. “These are the tops our dancers wear with these bottoms.” She pulls out the bottom drawer and it is filled with coffee-colored, short, leather hot pants. I hate to admit it, but with the cream and caramel color palettes mixed with the leather and lace, it really gives off an expensive, sexy feel. “They don’t wear the skirts?” I frown. “No, it’s hard to straddle a seated man, lap dance in a tight leather skirt, and still maintain your dignity.”

I immediately fall in love with it. “This is perfect,” Andras says. Morana looks at me. As much as I love it, I don't want to agree with him, so like a child, I just shrug. “Come on.” Morana grabs my hand, pulling me to another section. Andras stays behind, much to my relief. She pulls me over to a row of skirts that I have to admit are super cute. “With your fabulous legs, I want to see you in more skirts.” “Anything for you,” I say with a fake flirty smile, batting my eyelashes at her.

Heather's POV I stared at the mini skirt and I could not hold myself from blushing. I put my hands on my mouth to curtail the happiness but I could not. I spun around and held the skirt out with my hand and I smiled at myself. I smacked my perky ass and let it wobble with multiple ripples because I was not wearing any underwear. “You are so fucking sexy, Heather!” I said to myself and I bit my lips, staring at myself at the mirror again and pressing my boobs.

With a dramatic flourish, she pulled out a flowy, aggressively glittery tank top—one hundred percent Freddy—a sleek black mini skirt, and a pair of black suede slouch boots. Gemma snorted, finally dropping her arms from her chest. “Oh, I see how it is. I’m going out looking like a country bumpkin, and you’re going out all glitz and glam.” Freddy paused, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure I have something in my closet that’ll fit you—mini skirt and sparkly tank included—if you really want to change?”

Jack asks if he can get a Naughty Shirley Temple later. When he sees I haven't noticed it yet, Noah points me toward the center of the room where the food is. I gasp. The centerpiece is a giant sandcastle. It is an almost perfect replica of the one we built so long ago. It's beautiful. I step closer and realize that there is more to it than just the towers and seashells, though. The moat is shallow and filled with some sort of glass to make it look like water. Swimming through the glass are sharks made of sand. Lemon sharks.