He was greeted by soft ambient music, probably something classical. The light was a little lower than usual, but not in a cheap way. The dining-room table was elegantly set, the silverware glinting. The smell of freshly baked bread was in the air. Several bottles of wine were gently breathing, preparing for their big moment. What the hell was going on?
He had expected some kind of gaudy shit, cheap alcohol and energy drinks, horrible food if any and some cheesy pop music made by amateurs. He sneaked to the kitchen, from where he could hear somebody working. He glanced around the corner and saw a curvy woman in a long black dress, her blond hair styled like a movie star's. She turned around to arrange some tomato slices on a platter with buffalo mozzarella and garnished it with a single leaf of basil. She didn't notice him, so engrossed was she in her work.
He caught a glance of her face. It was Brittny, and it wasn't. Well, it was, but her look had changed dramatically. Or rather, the opposite. Frederic was getting confused. Everything was still there, the dick-sucking lips, the smooth forehead, all that artificial stuff that made him so hard. But it was somehow camouflaged. She looked like a very classy, very sexy woman that wouldn't be out of place in a Hollywood movie. Frederic felt himself get hard at the same time as his face turned crimson with shame. He had dared insult this woman. He had underestimated her and now, here she was, proving him wrong on every point.
He retreated discreetly.
He knew, he had only ten minutes left, max, but he definitely had to get some flowers, some chocolate and some jewelry. Now!