Shh, Just Kiss Me (18+)

I N D I S C R E T I O N °

(Audrey)

(Rosie Huntington-Whiteley as Patricia)

My lips are as red as the color of a rose. I'm highly satisfied with the pigment. All it took was one swipe and just like that, it covered my bare lips. If only I could share a kiss with someone just to electrify the moment.

I haven't spoke to Damon in a while after I lost my temper and wished his death. He'll never look at me the same. As a matter of fact, he doesn't look at me the same at all. I don't blame him, though. Everything is entirely my fault, but I don't want to say it in his face and look weak. I refuse to look weak.

I poured a glass of wine for myself staring at the home screen of my computer. It's late at night and nothing feels better than that. The magazine firm was closed. I'm the only one who's light is on.

Someone knocks on my door. I thought I was the only one. I kindly let the person in.

"Hey," It's the blonde girl I seen talking to Damon at the gala the other night. "I work upstairs," She cracks a laugh. "I saw your light on and thought I'd stop by."

"You're working overtime today, too?" I asked her. Not in the mood for friendly invitations but she seemed welcoming.

"Is that Chardonnay?" She looked flabbergasted.

"Indeed it is," I reply. "Would you like some?" I offer, taking out another class from my desk. I pour her a glass and watched her lips part when the sound of the wine falling from the bottle made music with the glass.

She jumped and closed the door. She was wearing an all-white jumpsuit. Her fashion style looked appropriate but suspicious.

"Thanks for stopping by."

"No problem. I just thought you and I could be friends. Is that okay with you?"

I really don't care.

"Totally. So how are you?" I ask. She fixes the collar of her jumpsuit.

"Good, just got this job and the office itself. Success feels good."

It sure does!

"Always adored GQ," I add.

"What's your position again?"

"I'm the magazine's editor," I smiled feeling proud of what I love to do.

"So cool. How long?" I could see her fake smile. She didn't give a fuck about me or GQ. She's here for another reason. She was bad at pretending to be interested.

"It's been five years now."

"I love Chardonnay. " She said with her hand on her neck hissing like a snake. "It just makes you wanna take your panties off and skinny dip."

"Totally my style," I add trying to paint an image of an idea in my head.

"Well, did you hear?" She coyly looks to the side. I'm watching her. She blends with the paint on my walls of the office.

"What?"

"Fashion Week in Paris. Are you going?"

"Maybe. Actually, no." I'm very indecisive.

"Why?"

"Not really crazy about it this year."

Fashion Week is one of the best events taking affect globally. It's well known for its sketchy-edge wardrobes, jaw-dropping male and female models, and let's not ignore the unforgettable designers. Everyone who comes to these events always desire to relive it.