𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 |𝟏𝟖+ (#𝟏)

𝚂𝙸𝚇 |*

06
AMBER JACKSON
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Lace was an absolutely beautiful fabric. The delicate designs woven into a gorgeous flower pattern that covered my bust and pelvis were fascinating to the eye and alluring to the skin. A close fit that emphasized my height and physique by gently curving towards the areas of my hips and the cups of my breast. Regardless of insecurities, it would make any grown woman feel absolutely stunning. Color was a matter of personal preference for what made you feel the most appealing. It was crimson for some and black for others. It was white for me.

It could have been the contrast against my dark skin, or it could have been the concept of innocence and godliness that was associated with it. When I wore them, it encapsulated the core of my feelings. Bold. Beautiful. Sexy. Watched by every pair of eyes in the vicinity. Make no mistake, I was one of the least innocent people I knew, and I wasn't even close to godliness, so yes, this was a way for me to fool myself into being the person I wished I was on occasion, but it was also a way for me to portray facets of myself that were not immediately identifiable to the eyes of the world.

Sensuality is not a carnal desire where women can feely be gratified without the insult of some. This is even harder given the fact that I was not a size two. Stretchmarks, scars, and hyperpigmentation cover parts of my skin, reminding me of how lonely and insecure I once felt. Years of self-care, self-love, and patience were required to become the person I had always imagined myself to be. No, I'm not talking about being the stunning size two model that everyone seems to be fascinated with; I'm talking about simply appreciating myself and the body I'm in.

Of course, I reached my goal weight by losing a few pounds, worked on my strawberry legs and arms, and accepted my stretch marks and hyperpigmentation that would not go away, but I've reached a point where walking around a club in a white thong and pushup bra with a mesh robe was, in a sense, comfortable. I didn't care what others thought of me since I trusted in myself enough to appreciate myself.

Looking in the large dressing room mirror, I was a little worried about walking out there and playing out a scene in front of everyone. Before I left the apartment, I had a reassuring talk with Jade, who was, surprise, at home and not with Liam. Apparently she told him she needed to wish me "good luck and reassuring words" before I left for work tonight. "You're a bad bitch with a physique and soul the color of gold, every eye will gaze at you with lust and admiration," she said directly to me. She was a great friend. I didn't even have to express to her about my reservations for her to realize the importance of them.

My focus returns to the mirror, this time to ensure that my makeup is flawless, that my hair is neatly straightened, and that my minimal clothing is adjusted. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, picturing myself relaxing on a beach in Jamaica, listening to the waves crash on the coast. Calmness. After a succession of knocks and my reply the door bursts open, disrupting my focus when my eyes meet those of Alessandro. He was dressed in his characteristic black on black suit, with the top buttons undone and the gold chain peeking out slightly. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a minor detail of his tattoos on both arms inked into the skin.

If there was ever a dictionary description for the color black, I believe we would be led to him. Nobody could make darkness look this attractive, in my opinion. While adjusting his cufflinks, his lips were pursed in a barely visible smile, and his ankles were crossed. "Are you ready?" he asked, leaning against the doorway's opening. With a weak nod of my head, his eyes are drawn to my reflection in the mirror. His shoes knock against the room's flooring before he takes a seat behind me on the chair with his hands in his lap. His fingers softly drummed up and down on his thighs, which strangely caused my shoulders to relax, relieving the stiff feeling that had me believing I was stuck in the narrowest place conceivable. "Are you nervous?"