A Shaw Way To Love

Chapter One

Please note that this story will be edited at a later date.

Chapter one

Kate

Why am I always running late? I’ve managed it again ‑ somehow - to be bloody late! Tonight could possibly be one of the most important nights of my non-existent career and I manage to be late. I can’t quite work out what’s gone wrong though. I’ve left myself two hours to get ready, surely that should be enough, yet here I am about to scream with annoyance at myself as I realise I now have about forty minutes before my cab arrives. I shake my head in disbelief muttering words like idiot as I jump into the shower.

I frantically start soaping myself and keep dropping the soap. After about the tenth time my frustration shows itself in the form of a rather loud “Shit!”

Things don’t improve when I start to shave my legs. After I cut myself in three places, I realise that shaving too fast is never a good idea. It won’t stop bleeding. Great, that’s really going to look good!  I finish my shower and have half an hour left before the cab arrives. Jesus, how am I going to do this? I’ve still got to do my hair, get dressed, put on my make-up and....what else? I know there’s something else but I can’t remember what it is. I bend down to dry my feet when I catch sight of my toes. Oh hell! I’ve forgotten to paint my toe nails and right now they are covered with chipped red nail varnish. Running into my bedroom, I throw my towel on the bed, put on my knickers which I’ve already laid out next to my new dress, grab the nail varnish off the shelf and sit on the floor. I start painting my toe nails on top of the already chipped layer, knocking the bottle over a few times in my frenzied efforts to be fast. It’s not the neatest of applications but it will have to do. I glance up at the clock on my bedside table and shriek almost hysterically when I see that I now only have twenty minutes.

Quick, get dressed! Now! I grit my teeth as I realise that my hair is still dripping wet and is now making the back of my knickers wet. Aghh! I don’t have time to blow dry my hair, so I towel dry it instead almost violently and then brush it with equal severity. I decide quickly to tie my hair back into a ponytail. It’s all I can think of to do with such little time. Realizing though that an elastic hair band is probably a bit naf, I set about looking for my very fancy hair clip which is curved in such a way that it would fit around the base of my ponytail perfectly, covering the elastic band. It’s also very beautiful – antique silver encrusted with glass and amethyst – a birthday present from my eldest brother, Leo. Opening the top drawer of my dressing table and frantically rummaging inside, my heart sinks. It’s not there. Oh bloody hell! Is there a greater power conspiring against me? Because everything seems to be going wrong. Maybe it’s an omen. Maybe the opening night of the art exhibition I’m going to tonight ‒ my art exhibition ‒ is going to be a total disaster. Where the hell is my hair clip? I yank open the rest of the drawers, one by one, and finally find it in the last drawer I look in, right at the back under a big clump of cotton wool. It would be the last drawer, I mutter irritably as I take the clip out and bang the drawer shut.

Hair clip in place, I now turn my attention to my dress. And oh what a dress! I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. Completely out of my price range but I didn’t care. I had to have it, even though I knew I’d be paying it off on my credit card for the next two years or so. I pick it up off my bed and gingerly slip it on over my head. The bodice is fitted and held up with delicate spaghetti straps which cross at the back and are attached to the sides of the bodice. I can’t wear a bra with this dress because my entire back is exposed, including my lower back, and then some! This dress is so incredibly sexy and I feel sexy wearing it. I pull up the zip which is placed in the back of the skirt and smooth over the delicate fabric over my hips.