Nobody Dumps This Curvy Bitch
Today, I threw my shoulders back, met her gaze head-on, and walked straight up to her.
“Welcome,” she said, her smile polite but distant. “Looking for something specific?”
“I need a dress for a Saturday wedding,” I replied, my voice smooth, loud, and unwavering. “Something short. Something crimson red. And it needs to be completely, unforgivably unforgettable.”
Her eyebrows flicked up in mild surprise before her corporate smile dissolved into something far more genuine. “Crimson red for a wedding? I like your style. Follow me to the VIP lounge.”