You Think They're Looking at You Because You're Pretty

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Ken is constantly nagging his girlfriend about dressing provocatively.

Submitted: August 17, 2014

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Submitted: August 17, 2014



“Ken, it’s so great that you could make it.” said  my friend Ali as she leaned forward, wrapping me in a warm embrace. She glanced over my shoulder, immediately realizing that I was alone. “Oh, but where’s Erika?”

I stepped to the side, moving away from the doorway allowing other guests who were arriving to enter into the luxurious mansion that the party was being held in. Acting like my shadow, Ali moved with me so that she could continue our conversation.  

“She didn’t ditch you, did she?”

“What, no way! If anything, I would be the one to ditch her.” I said, causing both of us to lightly chuckle. After our laughing subsided I continued by saying. “But seriously, she had to work late, so her sister is giving her a ride here.”

“That’s good to hear.” said Ali as she rose upwards on her tippy toes, due to her short stature, to provide her with an extra few inches to reach up adjust my tie. “You two are like the star couple that everyone’s been itching to see.”  

“Don’t worry, Ali…she’ll show.”

Ali flashed me a reassuring smile and then directed me in a direction of the mansion where the other party goers were congregating and then she returned to her spot at the front of door to greet the guests. Her brief role as a tour guide was unnecessary for me because I had been to Simmons Mansion several times in the past, in fact, enough times to walk through the house with my eyes closed without knocking anything over or running into any walls. 

Jeffery Simmons and his wife Angela, the owners of the home and my long time friends, were holding a party to celebrate their five year anniversary. They had invited all of their family members, friends, and co-workers to attend tonight’s celebration that was honoring their five years together, or in my opinion, their ability to go five years without getting divorced. 

Both were public icons, Angela, a well-known actor,  Jeffery, a director of dozens of best selling films, and the couple had a history of quick marriages that led to divorces. They were meant for each other most likely because if they were to divorce it would be something they mutually agreed on due to their history of short-term marriages.  

I followed the sound of the music that was playing from some unknown location in the ceiling and after making my way pass hundreds of party-goers who were dressed formally in either suits or dresses, I somehow found myself in the kitchen. The thing I liked best about a party at the Simmons’ mansion was the fact that when they threw a party, they didn’t keep it secluded to one area of the house, the entire house was open for guests to wander about and do as they please. It was usually a wild and chaotic event.  

There were a few guests opening cabinets, searching for something to eat, despite there being a snack table set up somewhere near the main foyer. The kitchen was a large room with granite counter tops that probably cost a fortune, gleaming crystal colored tiles, and marble cabinets that lined the upper portions of the wall.

I scanned the area and spotted the person I had been searching for, Angela Simmons. She was leaning her backside against the table, staring down at her cell phone as her fingers rapidly attacked the buttons. The light from her phone lit up her flawless, clear face with a warm glow.

In the past, before she became an actress, Angela was a model and I was more than certain this was attributed to her tall height. She had the body of a light pole and long blonde hair that matched her bright blue eyes, all characteristics that were welcomed in the world of modeling and acting.  

“Angie!” I called out as I approached her.  

She looked up from her phone and the second her eyes met mine, a smile grew across her face. Angela abandoned her phone on the counter top and met me half way across the room with an open embrace. She smelled like strawberries and cherries.

“I’m glad you could make it…” she then made a face as though she ate something sour. “You’re girlfriend…she’s not here is she?”

“What’s with that face?” I asked while trying to sound offended even though I was well aware that Angela disliked Erika. “I told you yesterday she was coming.”

“Alright, alright.” she said, putting her hands up in defeat. “I was just asking. And what do you mean by, ‘what’s with that face’? You know how I feel about her. She’s not really you’re type.”

“Oh, then who is?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

“Well,” she placed her hand on her heart as though gesturing towards herself.” Someone like me of course.”

Angela giggled at her own remark, causing me to laugh for a short second. There was something about her laugh that was able to induce humor in me.  

“But seriously,” said Angela. “You really can do better.”

“Well, until I meet someone better, Erika’s the girl for me.”

We spent several minutes catching up with one another, talking first about family then our work. Before I knew it, fifteen minutes had elapsed and another guest was calling Angela, which ended our conversation.  

I wandered through the house for a short time, passing several individuals who had already managed to get drunk even though the party hadn’t  even really started. Eventually, I traveled to the dinning room where the heart of the party was located. It was a large room, half the size of a football field with stage set up at the front. 

An entire orchestra was sitting on top of the strange, playing classical music to fit the mood of the party. There were long buffet tables along the sides of the wall with waiters and waitress constantly added hundreds of different of items of food to the dishes and trays sitting on top.

Scattered about were several tables for guests to take seats and in the center was a large open space were couples were standing and dancing. 

I spoke with a few familiar faces that greeted me and then I found  a moment to myself so that I could text Erika to see if she had arrived yet. She replied almost immediately, saying that she was walking through the door.  

It’s about time. I thought as I headed for the front of the mansion. I was half way there when I spotted my girlfriend of six months, Erika, walking alongside her sister. My mouth nearly dropped open in shock at the sight of her. 

Erika was a few inches shorter than me and she had long, black hair that reached the tips of her shoulders. She was a small woman and from the photos of her that I had seen from her past, she had always been tiny in body composition. The shock I felt wasn’t due to admiration, but instead it was largely contributed to by the horror that I was feeling over what she was wearing.  

She wore a very, very, very short, black, strapless dress that revealed her shoulders and a large portion of her back. The dress was cut extremely low, exposing her legs, thighs, and just about everything a mother would tell their daughter to conceal until marriage. I was half expecting it to slip off of her as she walked because her entire outfit was loose.  

“Hi sweetie!” she said once she reached me, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

I didn’t waist anytime greeting her, instead, I took a hold of her arm and dragged her a few feet away to a corner of the room where we could have a little privacy.

“Erika, what on earth are you wearing?”

“This old thing?” she laughed, obviously unable to detect my frustration. “It matches my bag, right?”

“That’s not what I mean.” I said sharply. “Don’t you think it’s a little too much?”

An offensive look flashed through her eyes and she gently slid my arm from hers and stared up at me in disbelief. “You said to dress formally.”

“Yeah, I said formally, not like you’re going to a strip club.”

Erika gasped in shock and flashed me the dirtiest look a woman could ever possess when you insult their fashion sense. I think the expression she gave me at the moment was caused by months worth of nagging that had led up to now. This wasn’t the first time I had spoken to her about wearing revealing clothing. It seemed to be a habit of hers, to unnecessarily show off large amounts of skin.

“I told her not to wear it.” said a familiar voice. We turned just as Susan, Erika’s older sister, joined us in our spot in the corner. “She wouldn’t listen.”

“You two are overreacting, really.” Erika sighed. “No one is paying attention. Now come on, let’s have some fun.”

Susan and I didn’t move or show any signs in our facial expression that we agreed with her, causing Erika to sigh and wander away to find any friends among the hundreds of people who were at the party. As she walked away, I caught a few men walking by glancing at her.

“Ugh…is she really this slow?” I asked Susan.

“I don’t think she realizes that everyone is looking at her.” Susan crossed her arms over her chest to reveal her discontent through her body language.

“Of course not.” I said running my hand through my hair. “She thinks they’re looking at her because she’s pretty…but that’s the last thing they’re doing.”

“You better go after her.”


A waiter passed by carrying a tray with a few champagne glasses sitting on top. I grabbed one and after swallowing its contents in one shot, I handed the empty glass to Susan and made my way through the crowd of people.  

Erika only had a two minute head start in wandering away from us, but within that time span I had managed to lose her among the crowd due to the large capacity of people. To make matters worst, while searching for her, I was stopped by several friends who desperately wanted to speak with me. I didn’t dare be rude and push them aside so I quickly spoke to them, before excusing myself so that I could continue my search.  

“Kenny!” I heard someone call me shortly after escaping my fourth conversation.

I pretended like I didn’t hear them and walked in the opposite direction, darting through dresses and suits until I rested my back against a wall that overlooked the entire dinning room.

“Did you see that hot girl in the black dress?” said a bearded man who was talking to his friend as they walked by me. “It doesn’t really fit the dress code, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

The two men laughed, causing rage to boil inside of me because I was certain they were talking about Erika. I headed in the direction they came from and to my relief I spotted Erika speaking with a random man who seemed to be interested in what she had to say. 

My face was burning with red with embarrassment as I watched her absently-mindedly speak to him, while pulling the hem of her dress down to prevent it from sliding off of her. People walking by glanced at her: women giving her dirty looks and dozens of men elbowing their buddies to catch a glimpse of  whatever cleavage they could see.  

“Erika, can we talk for a minute.” I said once I reached her.

“Not now Ken, I’m talking to my new friend.”

“Now!” I said sternly wrapping my arm around her shoulder and dragging her in the opposite direction, refusing to give her any options. 


I led her away from the party, down several hallways, until we reached the Simmons’ library, a room that I knew would be empty. Just as I predicted, the room was empty of guests and consisted of large rows and columns of book shelves that stretched to the wall.  

“If this is about my outfit-”

“Of course, this is about your outfit!” I blurted angrily, startling both of us because Erika had never heard me raise my voice and I wasn’t accustomed to yelling.

I allowed a moment to elapse, so that I could calm myself down and then I said. “Listen, everyone is giving you dirty looks, I don’t care too much about the girls, but it’s the guys…I don’t like how they look at you like you’re an object…” I reached forward and began stroking her hair. “…you mean a lot to me…you’re more than that. I just wish you wouldn’t dress like this.”

“I’m didn’t want to upset you, I really didn’t. Honestly, I didn’t even notice.”

“But I did.” I said quickly and took a hold of her hand. “Promise me, that you’ll only dress like this when it’s just…just us two.”

She opened her mouth as though to protest then paused half way as though she were internally debating with herself, until she reached a conclusion. “Alright, I won’t dress like this anymore… except for when you and I are alone.”

“Thank you.” I slid my jacket off and handed it to her. It was extremely long, due to my height so when she put it on, it nearly reached her knee caps.

“Let’s return to the party.”

“Okay.” she smiled at me. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”  


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