RED PASSION, part 3 (Patreon)

The elevator was going up so slowly that Priscilla couldn’t stop drumming her red manicured nails on the wall of the cabin. After spending most of the morning doing her hair, applying her makeup and getting dressed for the opportunity of a lifetime, the bus that had to bring her downtown had been delayed. The tension at the real possibility of being late for the auditions was invading her to the point of almost making her forget the feeling of superiority she had experienced the last time she looked at herself in the mirror, just before leaving home. Even now, the redhead was unaware that her own reflection in the elevator mirror projected the ideal femme fatale image: a sultry green-eyed beauty, with an enviable silky light skin, dressed in a form-fitting red crop top and a very short black leather miniskirt. Priscilla’s strong, endless legs were covered by red fishnet stockings, and further down, a pair of 2-inch high heels, as black as the thoughts that flooded the young woman’s head, elevated the beauty well above six feet in heigh. A small dark handbag, slung over her right shoulder, completed the stunning outfit.

An eternity later, the elevator doors finally opened. With hurried steps, Priscilla crossed the floor corridor to, with some abruptness, open the door behind which her dreams were waiting. The first thing she felt was the heavy smell: an air laden with perfumes, lotions and oils flooded her nostrils, making her nose twist at that mixture of natural and chemical scents. Some forty or fifty girls crowded into a room where no more than thirty should fit. Thanks to her height, and the extra help of her heels, the redhead managed to peek above the cloud of perfect hairstyles to spot a small window where a few aspiring models appeared to be collecting some kind of documentation.

“Here we go,” Priscilla whispered to herself. Catching her breath, she pushed against the tight chaos of female bodies and sank between them, trying to reach her destination. Soon, however, she realized that it would be no easy task, as every torso, every arm, every leg was an obstacle that exerted a staggering resistance to her efforts. Worse still: on several occasions, she noticed how a foot or an elbow bumped into her body with an impetus more akin to aggression than a fortuitous blow. The beautiful redhead felt a special hostility as her firm and big breasts attempted to squeeze past another young woman’s pair, with both busts compressing together tautly before Priscilla managed to move forward.

As she immersed herself deeper and deeper in the room, however, the mass of beautiful women seemed more averse to her presence. She crossed glances with eyes of all shapes and colors, perfectly outlined and shaded, always narrowed and spiteful, usually jealous. She stepped on and was stepped on. She countered a few nudges with her own elbows and, when she saw the window six, seven interminable feet from her, someone tugged at her long reddish hair. Priscilla instinctively grabbed someone’s hair, not knowing if it was her aggressor or another young aspirant—she didn’t care. Some insults were exhaled, perhaps by her, perhaps by the other, perhaps by all of them but, at last, Priscilla reached the window.

Only two people could fit in front of the window at a time, but Priscilla managed to get the left side, sharing the attention of the man collecting the documents with another candidate. As she gave her name, she smelled an intense aroma surrounding her, coming from her companion. Turning her face, Priscilla found the eyes of another redhead staring back at her.

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Choosen by Pehmonalle1977. Words: 611 words.

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Pehmonalle1977, you can choose from which text story you want the next part: from this story or from another one, and I'll put you in the queue.

Those of you who have not yet chosen which story/s you want, let me know so I can put you in the corresponding queue.

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TOMORROW: Week schedule: November 21-27