Sorry it took so long.... Just a beginning to it. Plan to keep going if you like it.
Perfection. Not a smudge, not a stain, not a wrinkle nor a line. Pamela Ravenscroft, eternally young, externally beautiful; It should be on her fucking business card. Having the power of instantaneous healing and the fountain of youth cannot, however, protect her from the oh-so-human phenomena of the Bad Hair Day. In a moment of extreme laziness, Pam found herself crawling back into bed after her shower, nothing on her mind but the self-promise to get up and dry her flaxen locks in no longer than ten minutes. 40 or so minutes later, Pam found herself rolling out of her plush bed languidly. A quick run of a delicate hand through her blonde mane broke the peace. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. Maybe if she curled instead of straightened…. There was not a liquid product nor over-heated device that could make something acceptable of Pam’s disastrous mane. Maybe this was an excuse to finally wear one of those hats she’s been impulsively purchasing for years. But would Eric tease her more for the hat or the hair? A glance to the clock did nothing to send any qualms of conscience through her as she decided to simply start the process over again, from shower through blow-dry. Eric could kiss her ass. Her youthful, stylishly-covered ass.
An hour after the club opened, Pam strutted across the floor from the office (as she’d come in through the back entrance) to Eric’s ridiculous throne. “You rang?” She purred. Eric’s eyes, two narrow slits, zeroed in on his child. “Where the hell have you been?” He hissed. Pam smirked. “Save it. And don’t ask.” She smiled devilishly. “Just admire my beauty,” she said, running her fingers through her hair in self-admiration. Eric rolled his eyes and followed her retreating form with his eyes and voice, “You can’t be come in whenever you feel like it because of your hair!”
Perfection.
Not a smudge, not a stain, not a wrinkle nor a line.
Pamela Ravenscroft, eternally young, externally beautiful; It should be on her fucking business card.
Having the power of instantaneous healing and the fountain of youth cannot, however, protect her from the oh-so-human phenomena of the Bad Hair Day.
In a moment of extreme laziness, Pam found herself crawling back into bed after her shower, nothing on her mind but the self-promise to get up and dry her flaxen locks in no longer than ten minutes. 40 or so minutes later, Pam found herself rolling out of her plush bed languidly. A quick run of a delicate hand through her blonde mane broke the peace.
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.
Maybe if she curled instead of straightened….
There was not a liquid product nor over-heated device that could make something acceptable of Pam’s disastrous mane.
Maybe this was an excuse to finally wear one of those hats she’s been impulsively purchasing for years. But would Eric tease her more for the hat or the hair?
A glance to the clock did nothing to send any qualms of conscience through her as she decided to simply start the process over again, from shower through blow-dry. Eric could kiss her ass. Her youthful, stylishly-covered ass.
An hour after the club opened, Pam strutted across the floor from the office (as she’d come in through the back entrance) to Eric’s ridiculous throne.
“You rang?” She purred.
Eric’s eyes, two narrow slits, zeroed in on his child. “Where the hell have you been?” He hissed.
Pam smirked. “Save it. And don’t ask.” She smiled devilishly. “Just admire my beauty,” she said, running her fingers through her hair in self-admiration.
Eric rolled his eyes and followed her retreating form with his eyes and voice, “You can’t be come in whenever you feel like it because of your hair!”
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That was soooooooooo good! LOVE your Pam so so so so much, and this made me seriously giggle. I could so see her doing this too :)
So good! Gah! Love it!
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<3
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