The Perfect Lady Novels & Stories

Thank God they chose a table far from the view of everyone, it's like a private place, I like it. Adal has been polite, chivalrous, and attentive with me, I like that. Who am I kidding? The man takes me out of my world of fantasies and makes them come true. I see Lucero and her lavender-colored dress, and I feel a little envy, she has that sexy yet sophisticated touch. I emphasize that it's good jealousy, not that I want her dress, on the contrary, my dress chosen by her can raise the dead; a red dress, with straps, V-neck, and let's not forget about the slit I have on my right leg, from my foot to my thigh, almost showing my pantyhose.

Every movement was controlled—elegant, practiced since birth. She took only two steps into the room… and stopped cold. Her eyes widened in disbelief. The air seemed to leave her lungs. Before her, bound, disheveled, dressed in humble clothes and marked by exhaustion, stood someone who should not exist. It was like staring into a cruel mirror. “No…” Elinor whispered. “This is not possible.” Lyria stared back with equal intensity. She had never seen a noble lady this close before. The flawless skin, the softness of her hands, the perfect fall of her dress… and yet—

A large air conditioning unit blew out cool air. Gen and I took a seat and waited. And waited. And waited. "How much longer? I'm becoming hungry," Gen asked. I was becoming irritated. I tapped my nails on the surface of the table and looked at my wristwatch. The door finally pushed open and an elderly man appeared. I stood and Gen did the same. "Good afternoon. I'm King Charles the Third. Welcome to Conovia." "It's a pleasure Your Highness. I'm Emily Hollen, and this is Generosa Sky."

And who was this woman they were gushing over? “Of course, she will be stunning,” Ivy drawled, tossing her hair back. “Everyone knows Christian Blackwood would never and I mean never settle for a mediocre woman. People like him don’t do ‘average.’ She has to be perfect. A goddess face, a model body, flawless in every way.” She turned to Sam with a smirk. “You and I both know we don’t even come close to that.” Sam scoffed. “Whoever she is, she’s just insanely lucky.”

If Amy Farrah Fowler could have her dream prom, so could I. “ok, prom queen, what song do you want to dance to? I am afraid I don’t have a huge selection of music for you to pick from” Simon asks looking ridicoulously hot in his foil crown. “I want something slow and sweet,” I declare swaying slightly. “That’s very helpful,” he snorts “hold on, “he says as he fiddles with his phone, and soon, the husky voice of Etta James comes on. “May I have this dance? “Simon asks cheekily, and I bow my head and accept his hand. I am flushed from all the wine and the teasing; I lean on him as we sway to At Last, and it feels so apt in that moment. We sway more than dance, but I am contented just to be in

It started with sincere love and kindness because doing such things costs you nothing. Thanks to Mr. Stephen, people like him made me a princess overnight. And those that had given up on love, destiny, family and hope... I've come to realize that nobody is left behind. No matter how perfect, or imperfect you think you are. I want you to know that life isn’t meant to be lived perfectly…but merely to be LIVED. Boldly, wildly, beautifully, uncertainly, imperfectly, magically LIVED. Since no one is perfect, it follows that all great deeds have been accomplished out of imperfection. Yet they were accomplished, somehow, all the same. There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman bei

Her eyes teared up and she had to bend over to keep her body from slipping to the side. “You seriously just said that. Keeping yourself in a good shape to attract a possible spouse. Are you freaking kidding me? And then you get mad at me when I call you a peacock. That’s exactly what a peacock does.” Ace clicked his tongue. “It’s not so strange that someone would want to keep themselves in good shape so that they can attract suitors.” “It’s just the way that you said it that kills me.” Gwen chuckled, wiping her eyes free of tears.

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

''Lily. Slowly, Lily turned around. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw a woman approaching. The lady was tall, her figure striking and elegant. Her beauty seemed to radiate effortlessly, the bold red lipstick on her lips suiting her perfectly. Her smile was bright, almost dazzling, and her long brown hair was curled, half cascading gracefully over her left shoulder. She wore a pure white dress that clung to her figure perfectly, paired with matching white heels that clicked softly against the floor as she walked. Even her suitcase was white, completing the flawless look that made her appear almost ethereal.

He suggested that I choose one of the ladies who were vying for my attention and the crowd erupted in agreement. My eyes scanned the lineup of eight beautiful women standing before me. I carefully observed their outfits, their bodies, their lips, and their eyes, trying to make a decision. Each girl threw me seductive looks, hoping to be the one I chose. But with their faces partially concealed by masks, it was challenging to make a choice based on their physical features. So, I decided to focus on the lady with the most captivating mask.