They Were Expecting A Lady, Instead They Met Me (Part II)

Chapter Three

**Sexual Themes and a Bit of Making Out**

3. HIPPIE BLISS

I walked out of the walk-in, sighing happily as my floor-length skirt fluttered around me. Chris frowned at my attire, and me but I ignored him as I fixed the hemp headband on my forehead. I felt like Sailor Moon crossed with a drug addict.

It was awesome.

‘Please Milee,’ Christopher begged, ‘don’t go out there like that. This is a formal event. Just wear the dress my sister picked out for you. Please!’

‘No,’ I replied stubbornly. ‘I’m a hippie so I’ll dress like a hippie.’

‘Milee!’ he whined.

‘No,’ I repeated.

‘But-’

‘No. Just no.’

‘Emilee!’ I just turned back to the mirror and outlined my eyes with black eyeliner. I didn’t usually wear makeup (it was such a pain to take off!) but it fit the whole ‘hippie’ thing so I made an exception.

‘Christopher, if you really love me you won’t care what I look like when I meet your family,’ I informed him matter-of-factly.

‘I do love you, I just don’t want you to make a bad impression. My family aren’t the only people down there, there will be nobles and knights and royals from other kingdoms!’

‘If you’re so embarrassed of me, send me home.’

‘I’m not embarrassed of you! I’m worried that no one will like you!’

‘Why wouldn’t anyone like me?’ I turned around, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. ‘I mean, I know I’m not princess material but-’

‘Mills, you know I didn’t mean it like that,’ he sighed.

‘I know exactly what you meant. I’m an alien to you people. I won’t be liked and I won’t fit in, I get that. But I’m not going to hide what I really am. I am a hippie. I dance in the moonlight to the Beatles, high and drunk out of my mind. I have sex with random other hippies and I will eventually contract a STD. I am a peace activist and I am always happy. You, and no one else, will be able to change this part of me. Just like Katy Perry.’ After I finished my speech, I turned away and painted my lips red.

My outfit consisted of a floor-length skirt that fell in layers of black and pastel blue, a white bohemian shirt that reminded me of pirates and strappy black heels. The shirt was tucked into the skirt and I had a vintage-looking black leather belt around my hips. In my opinion, I looked awesome and the black headband that went across my forehead just added to the awesomeness. But I could see Christopher eyeing me like I was some sort of dragon/smurf/thingy.

‘I’m not going to change your mind, am I?’ Christopher asked, his voice defeated.

‘Nope, you’re not.’ I turned towards the door, ready to make my grand entrance.

‘Lord help me,’ my mate muttered just after I left the room. The hallway was as I remembered it, long and ridiculously pretty. It all looked really… royal, with champagne wallpaper and red carpet.

Maybe the carpet’s red to hide the bloodstains.

Or, maybe the carpet’s red to hide the red frogs that inhabit the palace! A princess must have a frog and a palace and more frogs. I can’t even contemplate what a smurf princess should have.

But shouldn’t frogs be green? If frogs are green, shouldn’t the carpet be green?

I’m confused.