«I’d like to apologize once again for the three-day delay to the event caused by bad weather. These things happen — especially when you organize a fashion show in Central Park. In any case, I’m proud to finally present my first collection, as a world premiere. For a young designer like , it’s truly a dream co true. I apologize in advance for being a little emotional — sorry if my voice trembles, but believe , I’ve never been this tense in my life. But now, enough talking. Let’s finally welco our wonderful models, who I’m sure will know how to make my beloved creations truly shine,» the young designer announces from the stage.
Oh... so she’s the designer behind that beautiful blue dress Kimberly’s wearing? She can’t be more than twenty, and yet she’s already debuting with her first collection in the heart of New York. This girl is destined for a brilliant career — there’s no doubt about that.
It’s almost evening when the fashion show begins, and I have the privilege of watching it right by the runway. From here, Kimberly will definitely see . I managed to snag this seat thanks to an incredible stroke of luck — a journalist dropped out at the last mont, and Elenoire secured it for on the spot.
Tonight I’m wearing one of those super-elegant outfits Elenoire dumped on . Thank God they forced to buy them, otherwise I would’ve really made a fool of myself showing up dressed the way I usually do. Everyone in the audience, journalists included, is wearing ridiculously expensive clothes.
Everyone except three people. A small group made up of a boy, a girl, and an elderly man sitting in the last rows — impossible not to notice. It’s not that they’re badly dressed, but even an untrained eye like mine can tell those clothes ca from so low-end outlet.
Anyway... I’m pretty disappointed.
Not by the clothes, obviously, but by the so-called models — or at least that’s what they dare call themselves. Walking toothpicks with legs. No ass, no tits, faces so hollowed out they look like skulls with hair. If I had to sleep with one of them, I’d almost be afraid of hurting her by thrusting too hard. And yet, the comnts I hear around are full of praise, both for the outfits and for the girls wearing them.
Yeah, right. If this is beauty to them, all the better — they’re just setting the stage for Kimberly’s triumphant entrance.
I know that when her turn cos, these incompetents will fall out of their chairs, fainting like they’ve been struck by Stendhal syndro.
These are easily the two longest hours of my life. Fashion shows are even more boring than I imagined. I thought ti would fly — I an, two hours watching half-naked girls walk back and forth shouldn’t be that bad... if only there were actually sexy girls to look at.
And finally, after an endless wait, the mont arrives. The young designer, visibly awkward but euphoric, returns to the stage, welcod by thunderous applause.
«I hope you’ve enjoyed what you’ve seen so far as much as I enjoyed creating it. We’ve finally reached the highlight of my collection, and I wanted to celebrate it with sothing truly special. When I planned the order of the show, I had a very clear idea in mind: I wanted the centerpiece of my first collection to be worn by soone completely outside the fashion world. I wanted it to be loud and clear that these clothes are for everyone, and that they don’t need professional models to shine. For this, I’d like to thank my dear friend Elenoire for finding the perfect girl — exactly the one I had in mind while designing this dress. A big round of applause for the jewel of this year’s spring collection, and above all for the wonderful girl wearing it: Kimberly Almiris.»
And then, imdiately after the announcent, the curtain reveals Kimberly.
Total silence.
Every murmur in the room dies instantly. It’s clear that no one was expecting beauty like this... not even .
Yeah, strange, right? Out of everyone here, I’m the one left the most speechless — even though I’d already seen her wearing that dress.
Back in the boutique, Kimberly was simply wearing a dress. Now it’s different.
Her platinum-blonde hair is carefully styled and gathered into a chignon at the back of her head. The makeup is light but flawless, and blue lipstick colors her thin yet full lips. High heels matching the dress make her look even taller and more slender than she already is.
There isn’t much else to say, except that I have the most beautiful girl in the world standing right in front of . Period.
And apparently the journalists and the audience agree — their comnts focus more on Kimberly’s beauty than on the dress itself.
The mont she steps onto the runway, I notice her searching for with her eyes, a hint of anxiety showing. She relaxes instantly when our gazes et and I give her a small, encouraging wave.
She nods and smiles, then starts walking amid a rain of flashes. As expected, her steps aren’t as graceful or refined as those of the models before her — they’re clearly more experienced — but thanks to her sweet, spontaneous air, she’s a hundred tis better than all of them put together. I can’t take my eyes off her for even a second.
All day I’d been impatiently waiting for the mont I’d finally get to see Kimberly wearing sothing sexy again, and yet it’s not her breathtaking breasts or her smooth, toned thighs that keep my gaze locked on her. It’s her sweet, awkward, and at the sa ti happy and excited smile — sothing I’ve never seen before — even as she tries to hide that storm of emotions behind the classic impassive mask of a professional model.
But then, sothing goes wrong.
Kimberly reaches the end of the runway. She’s about to turn around and head back when....she freezes.
She’s seen sothing. Or soone. Her eyes go wide with terror, her body completely paralyzed.
The audience starts murmuring, wondering what’s going on, and I’m the first one who doesn’t understand.
Could it be a sudden panic attack? It doesn’t make sense — everything was fine just monts ago.
I follow her gaze, trying to understand what she’s seen that could shock her like this.
I’m not entirely sure, but it looks like her eyes are locked onto those three people dressed far less elegantly than the others — the boy, the girl, and the elderly man in the last rows — whom she could probably only notice now that she’s reached the end of the runway.
And right then, the elderly man suddenly jumps to his feet and points a finger at her in accusation.
I get a bad feeling — sothing terrible is about to happen.
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