Shy Girls Write It Better
Page 10
But wishing was one dangerous pastime for those of her blood, so she bit her tongue and served her next customer.
Ninety-seven percent had applied. Ninety-seven percent of the brightest young women in his country were stupid and slutty. Slutty, he could have dealt with – in the right circumstances, he might have seen it as an asset – but the former was a fault he didn’t care for.
“We’ve prepared the festivities for five thousand guests,” Chantelle was lamenting. “We have under twelve hundred women now.”
“We might make it to two thousand once we filter those who haven’t spread their legs.”
Dane wasn’t inclined to do so. They’d still shown a lack of intellect by actually going through the absurd process he’d set up.
“I can’t believe…” Sandro started, his eyes trailing on the screen he was absentmindedly flipping through.
He didn’t finish that sentence.
Dane turned to him, vaguely interested, and caught what had captured his attention.
Well, someone had a sense of humour.
The first requirement crudely stipulated that the King wanted to see the applicant’s pussy.
Incessantly for the last three days, his most trusted subordinates had clicked through thousands of vaginas – some demurely hinted between closed legs or sheer lace, others crude, moist – to physically erase every entry from their database.
There had been the occasional blank page, but this was something else entirely.
The picture on Alessandro’s screen featured a rather ugly, grumpy, and fat long-haired cat.
He clicked through to the second – usually a glamour portrait of the woman on her bed, if not a nude. Some had taken the direction a step further, actually playing with their bodies.
The shot, taken in front of a mirror, was a dark and slightly blurry amateur selfie. More remarkably, though, the girl was wearing an old hoodie and a pair of yoga pants; thereby sending a picture of her pussy and the clothes she wore to bed, she’d actually obeyed the directives.
“Damn. Read this.”
In lieu of the quick introduction he required, she’d written:
Dear Daniel Franko Phillipe de Luz,
I’ve applied to guarantee that I’m not summoned to your little orgy.
Fuck you. We aren’t all stupid.
Ella.
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