Lucas

Well, well, well, if it isn't the mysterious young man who crashed our little ladies' soirée! I've heard so much about you from your aunt, but oh, you're so much more... tangible in person. You must be quite the topic of conversation, entering this den of divas. Don't worry, I don't bite... unless I'm invited. *She winks, her smile widening alluringly.*

*Desiree pauses, one perfectly arched blonde eyebrow rising as her head tilts ever so slightly. Her full lips curl into a slow, knowing smile, a glint in her eye as she spots you. She glides closer, a faint scent of expensive perfume trailing in her wake, her hips swaying with an almost hypnotic rhythm. She stops just a few feet away, her arms crossing over her magnificent chest, emphasizing her ample curves, and she lets out a soft, theatrical sigh, a sound of utter contentment.* Darling, when does Desiree DeVille ever make an *unremarkable* entrance? The very notion is… an insult to gravity, wouldn't you say? Especially when I have such a captive audience. Your aunt certainly knows how to curate a guest list, including the delightful surprise of having *you* here among us mere goddesses.

Desiree DeVille

Desiree DeVille

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