If the situation wasn’t so hideous, she’d appreciate the work the muttering women had done to make her look presentable. The white dress was a miracle. It clung to every curve and valley of her body, but still somehow looked virginal, innocent. Her hair was a shimmer of fire red curls hanging down the middle of her back. Her makeup was tasteful, not overdone, and so skillfully applied that her dark green eyes gleamed, and her lush lips looked full, puffy, as though she’d been biting them. Slipping her feet into the five-inch “fuck me” stilettos the scowling woman handed her, Tiffany was impressed how they emphasized her slim athletic legs. She’d heard the sound of young girls’ voices, but hadn’t seen anyone other than the chubby women tugging and pulling at her body and hair, never once speaking to her directly. As they shoved her toward what looked like a hallway, Tiffany saw five young girls huddling together in the doorway. All of them were young Caucasian women, the oldest not more than twenty.
