What kind of Woman?
When I picked up the gaudy looking necklace I couldn’t even imagine what kind of woman would wear such a thing. What kind of woman would even think of herself as a bitch? Let alone proudly flaunt it to the world. It didn’t make sense to me at all.
But when I picked it up an image started to crystallise in my head. I vividly imagined the necklace displayed proudly atop a canyon of deeply tanned cleavage in an outfit designed to draw the eye directly to it. Of course whoever wore this necklace would be as fake as they come, fake tits, fake tan, fake lips fake nails it all made sense. The necklace would ironically be the only truthful thing about her. She probably had a name like Chardonnay and wore big hoop earrings.
Absent minded I lifted the necklace over my head and after it around my neck I understood completely. I was Chardonnay, a bad bitch through and through. I was on my way to the salon to get my hair blown out ready to hit the clubs tonight. Hopefully there would be a footballer there to dig my claws into, so that I could become a rich WAG, never having to lift a finger again.
If not I would just have to have a bit of fun by using my ‘charms’ to seduce some married guy and make him cheat on his wife. It makes me so hot to think how one night with me will ruin him forever, “once a cheater always a cheater” as they say. I might even take a cheeky selfie with my lips wrapped around his cock to send to his wife, or if he's rich blackmail him with.
It made perfect sense to me now. I was the biggest bitch around and I wanted everyone to know!
