Free Fatshionista by Vanessa McKnight Page B

scissors get
to?”
     
    He looked around
us, felt under the pillows, rolled me over to the side, all while I was still
struggling to try and wrench the fabric down my hips.
     
    “Hmmmm, we seem
to have misplaced them,” he said as he continued to pull up one pillow after
another.
     
    “You’ve got to be
kidding! They were right here! What, did they sprout legs and run off?”
     
    “You tell me; you’re
the one authoring this particular fantasy. I’m simply at the mercy of your
deranged imagination.”
     
    “Deranged?” Of
all the nerve! He was the craftsman and it was my fault he couldn’t get the job
done? “You’re the one that stopped when the job was only half done! If you had
just gotten it all cut off at once, we wouldn’t be having this argument right
now!”
     
    “Yes, you are
correct; I’m sure this is all my fault. I would just like to point out,
however, that if this were my fantasy, we would both have started out naked,
and at this point I would already be deep inside of you,” he yelled.
     
    Um…yes,
please.
     
    “Stop talking and
start pulling or cutting or something. This can’t be happening again; it just
can’t. What is wrong with me? I can’t even have fantasy sex right…I am a
complete freak.”
     
    He was responding
with what I could only imagine was another smartass comment, but I couldn’t
hear what he said; his mouth was moving but no words were coming out.
     
    I woke up panting
and sweating with the covers flung off the bed. And I had a death grip on my panties.
     
    “Son of a bitch,”
I moaned as I curled into a ball and tried to quiet all the various body parts
that had come out to play tonight.
     
    I was losing my
mind.

Chapter 7
     
    Well, my dear
fashion fiends, your mama hopes you are taking a moment to catch your
collective couture breaths before resort season starts up. Your mama hears many
houses are opting for a full-on runway show, so don’t put those roller skates
up just yet. Come May, you will be skating from one show to another all over
again. Can I get a fashion hallelujah? If you are a true someone in this
fashionating world, you will be sitting ringside with your mama to watch them
all bring the goods. If not, keep your bat channels tuned to this blog and your
mama will bring you all the latest bat updates.
     
    -- February
24th “It’s just fashion, bitches” blog--
     
    I was trying to
muddle through the backlog of emails that had piled up during the last few
weeks. With the crazed pace of show after show, I relied more on text messaging
and wasn’t as diligent in checking email. And now I was paying the price for
it.
     
    Ryan poked his
head in my door and thankfully saved me from the drudgery of my task.
     
    “So I heard we
might be heading out today to do some preshow photo-shooting and scouting?
Please say yes; I’ve been stuck in the office for the last two days organizing the
storage room to Scarlett’s specifications.” Ryan plopped down in my spare chair,
which for once was clean, as I had tackled everything in my office before I
finally gave in and strapped myself down to answer emails.
     
    “Why is Scarlett
changing things in the storage room, and an even better question, why are you
helping her?” I had thought it had been a little too quiet around here for the
last few days. Ever since her arrival, Scarlett had been popping by almost
daily to ask if we had any new clients (we didn’t), if there were any new write-ups
about the company or our clients (there were not), or if I had some time to
meet with her to discuss her new marketing strategies (I did not).
     
    “Well, apparently
she hasn’t had time to hire her own interns, and Marta told her since you had
two, one of us could help her out. I drew the short straw, so Lizzie stayed
with you and I had to go to Scarlett.” Ryan tried to look pathetic and sad, but
the huge grin on his face ruined the whole look.
     
    “I’m sure you
were just devastated to have to run