Klaus Lunettes Novels & Stories

The rectangle black Chanel sunglasses or the Dior round sunglasses. “Get the Chanel one. It suits your small face.” I heard a voice saying from behind me. I didn't have to turn around to guess who it is, he was reading a magazine on the sofa in a stall. I glared at Alpha Magnus and chose the Dior sunglasses, the opposite of what he said. He shook his head at me in disappointment, clicking his tongue. “You chose the opposite but don’t still look good on you.” He then went to the staff employee and gave his credit card, “I’ll pay whatever she picks.” He said, winking at me.

The skillfully applied make-up now finally revealed her features—no longer muted but defined, and enhanced. Alva's pine green eyes seemed clearer, set, and luminous. With artistically arched brows and their sockets softly deepened, the lashes richly lush. And her mouth—yet again a surge sent my hormones kicking in powerfully—her mouth was tender and inviting as a blooming vanilla.

I peck her lips again. She blushed and hit my shoulder playfully, clicking her tongue. “Your subordinate is still here” “Klaus doesn't see anything. Right, Klaus,” I asked over my shoulder. “Of course, Mrs Pearce. I have astigmatism. Everything is a blur to me. I should get going,” Klaus held the tablets under his armpit and stretched out his hand, feeling for obstacles as if he couldn't see for real. He acted so smoothly that I was almost convinced he was blind.