Status: On going!
Things Can Only Get Worse.
Slime Ball.
"‘Go get dressed will you sweetheart? We’ve got to leave in half an hour," my Mother said, looking at her silver Rolex watch.
I left the kitchen, stomach still growling. Back up in my room I was tempted just to dress in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I have always been a big believer in comfort before fashion, but I knew it wasn't worth the argument. I threw on a simple pink dress, put on some heels and scribbled on some eye-liner. I didn’t bother to style my blonde hair; I just grabbed my bag and headed down the stairs.
"Darling couldn't you make a little bit more of an effort, today is an important day.’" My mother said through a clenched jaw, trying to conceal her annoyance at my appearance.
The fact that she didn’t say anything mean put me on edge; it wasn’t like her to keep her opinions to herself. Something was up.
We sat in the back of our town car on our way into the city; I was enjoying the silence when she piped up
"We are almost here. Don’t you have any lipstick you could put on? I can’t stress how important today is"
"What’s so important about today?"I asked, sceptically.
"You shouldn’t ask so many questions." She responded quickly.
The car pulled up outside of a large town house in the centre of London, the people who owned it obviously had too much money to spend.
A butler answered the door. He took my mother’s coat and led us through to a large room with sofas that looked as though they should be comfy but I could almost guarantee that they wouldn’t be.
There were two people in the room, both male. Once I got a look at their faces I understood why my mother had been trying to butter me up all morning.
The men in the room where Mr Philip Whitcomb and his son Andrew. Andrew was you typical arrogant, self-absorbed 20 years old rich boy and my mother had been trying to set me up with him for months.
He wasn’t a bad looking guy; in fact he was really quite handsome. It was his horrible attitude that made him ugly; he was the kind of person I detested. My mother and Andrews father tactfully made an excuse to leave the room, abandoning me with Andrew.
We sat on one of the sofa’s (I was right, not comfy at all). I could smell his sickly strong aftershave as he edged across the sofa to get closer to me.
"I’ve been dyeing to get to know you for a while now Anna, you've kept me waiting," He said, a vile smirk on his face.
"Yeah well, I’ve been busy," I replied, completely uninterested.
"I know I saw you on the catwalk, the other week. You looked so fucking hot!" He lowered his voice and leaned into me.
"Thanks." I turned my face away and looked straight ahead. He was sitting right next to me now, his leg was touching mine. My body went completely stiff when he rested his hand on my leg; he is such a slim ball. I thought for a minute about how to respond to his advance.
I abruptly stood up.
"Look Andrew, I know why my mother wants us to get together and it’s not because she wants you as a son-in-law. Quite honestly you disgust me. I’m leaving now." I turned out the door.
"Call me Andy,"I heard him call after me.
I left the kitchen, stomach still growling. Back up in my room I was tempted just to dress in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I have always been a big believer in comfort before fashion, but I knew it wasn't worth the argument. I threw on a simple pink dress, put on some heels and scribbled on some eye-liner. I didn’t bother to style my blonde hair; I just grabbed my bag and headed down the stairs.
"Darling couldn't you make a little bit more of an effort, today is an important day.’" My mother said through a clenched jaw, trying to conceal her annoyance at my appearance.
The fact that she didn’t say anything mean put me on edge; it wasn’t like her to keep her opinions to herself. Something was up.
We sat in the back of our town car on our way into the city; I was enjoying the silence when she piped up
"We are almost here. Don’t you have any lipstick you could put on? I can’t stress how important today is"
"What’s so important about today?"I asked, sceptically.
"You shouldn’t ask so many questions." She responded quickly.
The car pulled up outside of a large town house in the centre of London, the people who owned it obviously had too much money to spend.
A butler answered the door. He took my mother’s coat and led us through to a large room with sofas that looked as though they should be comfy but I could almost guarantee that they wouldn’t be.
There were two people in the room, both male. Once I got a look at their faces I understood why my mother had been trying to butter me up all morning.
The men in the room where Mr Philip Whitcomb and his son Andrew. Andrew was you typical arrogant, self-absorbed 20 years old rich boy and my mother had been trying to set me up with him for months.
He wasn’t a bad looking guy; in fact he was really quite handsome. It was his horrible attitude that made him ugly; he was the kind of person I detested. My mother and Andrews father tactfully made an excuse to leave the room, abandoning me with Andrew.
We sat on one of the sofa’s (I was right, not comfy at all). I could smell his sickly strong aftershave as he edged across the sofa to get closer to me.
"I’ve been dyeing to get to know you for a while now Anna, you've kept me waiting," He said, a vile smirk on his face.
"Yeah well, I’ve been busy," I replied, completely uninterested.
"I know I saw you on the catwalk, the other week. You looked so fucking hot!" He lowered his voice and leaned into me.
"Thanks." I turned my face away and looked straight ahead. He was sitting right next to me now, his leg was touching mine. My body went completely stiff when he rested his hand on my leg; he is such a slim ball. I thought for a minute about how to respond to his advance.
I abruptly stood up.
"Look Andrew, I know why my mother wants us to get together and it’s not because she wants you as a son-in-law. Quite honestly you disgust me. I’m leaving now." I turned out the door.
"Call me Andy,"I heard him call after me.
♠ ♠ ♠
Anna's outfit