Page 109 of The Naughty List

Ok, time to face the music. I need to move and get to the toilet.

I hold my stomach as I roll over and wrench myself up to my feet. Yowch. It’s sore.

The shower last night hasn’t made any difference to the fact that leftover cum has drenched my panties through. I wipe it all away with adamnit.

After some painkillers and a glass of water, I stay in the shower for an age to sooth my aching bones. This one should have me clean and fresh, ready to roll.

I blow dry and curl my hair, making sure the spirals frame my face just right. I use contouring, and line my lips before applying deep red lipstick. My super dramatic catflicks are accentuated with long, fake lashes, and my push up bra works wonders with my dress, showing off my cleavage without being too excessive.

I wear a silver bracelet, with onyx black stones, and long sparkling earrings. And then for the crown on top, literally – I’ve got a tiara, with gemstones that catch the light from every angle.

I slip on my high black heels and do a twirl in the mirror.

I can’t believe this is really me now. Amewith the ability to be exactly who I want to be. The clothes I want, and accessories that sum me up. But not just that. It’s the heartwithinme. The soul within me. The life within me.

I can’t wait for my parents to meet my new confident self. I can’t wait to see their surprise at the woman their daughter has become. I’m desperate to see them. And, in the meantime, I’m desperate to see my new best friend, Ebony, too.

My heart is thumping like mad as the cab drives me to Chelsea. I catch sight of her before the cab pulls to a stop in the drop off area. She’s standing in the hotel doorway, looking like a Christmas goddess in her gorgeous blue gown. Her eyes shoot straight over to the cab, with a tentative smile on her face, trying to check out whether it’s really me inside as I pay the driver.

She lets out a huge squeal and comes running as soon as I’m out, slamming against me like I’m a long lost relative, and slinging her arms around my neck.

“ELLA!”

I get a lump in my throat, welling up at finally having my friend in my arms.

“Eb! Oh my God, it’s really you.”

She pulls away enough to look me in the eyes, and hers are filling up with tears, just like mine.

“Fuck.” She lets out the laugh I know so well. “I’ll be ruining my mascara already.”

“Yeah, well at least you won’t end up with eyeliner down your whole face. I’ll look like I’ve been throat fucked for three hours solid if I don’t watch it.”

“Better get in there before that happens. At least get through the door first.”

We walk through the magnificent chandelier-heavy reception, pressed close, side to side, and I rest my head on her shoulder in the elevator. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had in my life.

“I’m scared shitless,” I tell her as the elevator dings on the right floor.

“You’ve got nothing to be scared shitless of,” she says. “You’re a high performing stunner, who everyone is going to love. Just like I do.”

Love.

What a beautiful word.

“I love you, too,” I tell her, and she takes my hand again, giving me a reassuring squeeze as we step into the hall.

This place is crazy. Truly. There are as many chandeliers on this floor as there are in the foyer, with strings of lights and decorations between every single one of them. There’s a sign on the double doors in front of us.The Agency.

“Here we are,” Eb says and walks right on in as I teeter beside her.

Fuck, the tree by the dancefloor is the biggest I’ve ever seen, decked out in flashing lights and a zillion golden stars. I can barely even see the angel at the top, she’s so far away. The tree is flanked by two metallic reindeer swathed in multi coloured flashing lights and this place is already busy, with little crowds of people dotted around the room, chatting against the backdrop of Christmas songs. A couple of girls come racing right over to Eb, hugging her so hard they lift her from her feet.

They are Chantel and Sarah.Missy MoreandDaisy Chain.Two of the girls from Birmingham. I love the lilt of their accents as they introduce themselves. And, oh my God, they know who I am! They know I’m Hollyella from the forum!

“Great to meet you,” Chantel says, and the four of us are straight up to the bar – no cards or cash needed, since the agency are funding the whole thing. There’s champagne on tap, and we take four glasses, holding up a toast with acheers.

Cheers, indeed.

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