Once upon a time, a young father challenged his 4-year-old daughter. If she could read him any story book fluently in 6 months, he would grant her anything. The little girl wanted a puppy for her Christmas present, like little Jimmy got his last year, so she readily agreed. Whenever her teacher said a word, the little girl would carefully listen and try to pronounce it correctly. At night, when her father read her a bedtime story, she would also be all ears. 6 months later, just a week before Christmas, she sat on her father's lap in front of the fireplace and read [The Ugly Duckling] beautifully. As promised, she got her first puppy. The little girl named it TungTung, because he was fat. Renata loved it, and she never backed down from any challenge.
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Renata snorted as she smirked. "Let me ask you this: you and Lyle have the same abilities, and both of you are invited to a job interview. The company had tested you both, and the score was the same. Who do you think will get hired?"
He almost answered "Me" but rethought it. Calling Lyle attractive was like telling Einstein he was smart. Wilson was not bad-looking himself, but compared to Lyle, he was a bit far. "The company should also conduct a psychological test; I'm sure I can do better than Lyle."
Renata smirked, "You are not living in a utopian society, kid." She finally could send the word back at him. "Why would anyone pick you if you don't stand out among the rest? Any test you take in an interview is like a gate, but a good appearance is like a key to open the door. Although, a key alone is not enough to keep you in the room, it can give you a chance. And then, use those good things about work ethic to keep you from getting kicked out of the room, like the quality of your work, how fast you can deliver it, being on time, or a good personality (perhaps). My father has taught me that since I could ever remember. How many times do you think I eavesdropped on my father interviewing people? Other than that, background and connection also matter. The company will hope to profit from your business connection, especially if you have family that can support you. Now tell me, how can you win over Lyle if he has the same ability as you but has a good look and business connections through his family background?"
As he pondered, he couldn't bring himself to agree with her entirely. "I beg to differ. My interest is in coding and web design. I certainly will work for an IT company in the future. People in those industries will likely hire people based on their knowledge and skills, not on their appearance. You have surely heard that people who work at Google are not required to wear formal attire. Some even wear flip-flops."
"Yeah, but are all IT companies like Google or Facebook? I doubt you can wear whatever in their business meetings with clients. My point is, it won't hurt to look presentable, and it's not that hard. Come on, even you will pick someone attractive to be your girl, right? Not just clean or neat. Of course, aside from chemistry and yada yada. Look matter, period. It might not be that significant in IT industries, but if your business is in fashion, as my family's is, then appearance is important. Whether I want it or not, people will associate me with my store; I couldn't look less than perfect. Hell, even my father puts effort into looking exceptional; he is the face of our business. Can you imagine what people might think about our store if they saw my father dress like a hobo?"
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Wilson burst out in a chortle as he covered a laugh with a cough; he shouldn't picture Renata's father in Hobo style. He saw her father once, when he charged the Dean's office. The man was shorter than him by a few inches, but Wilson felt intimidated as if he was a ten feet furious bear. "Forgive me; I didn't mean to laugh at your father. I honestly never deemed a girl's appearance important before. I prefer the substance she puts into an intriguing or engaging conversation."
She raised an eyebrow, skeptical, as she shoved her right forearm in front of his nose. "Does it smell good? Even if a girl is interesting, you are still going to appreciate her more when she has a nice smell around you, no? Try to rub my arm." Even though he didn't quite understand, he did it anyway. "You will like it more if her skin is well maintained, no? Or you'll also be fine if her skin is as rough as-" Renata thought for a while before she said, " -as any dude, like James?"
Wilson dropped her arm like a hot potato and cringe in disgust. "Although I will gladly accept if her skin is nice to touch and smells divine, it won't be a problem even if she isn't."
"That's bullshit." Wilson stared at her sternly for her language. "OK, that's bullcrap. Give me your hands." Renata took both of his large palms and put them over her cheeks and jaw. "When you kiss her, won't you be happy to touch her supple face? Can you imagine kissing chapped lips instead of soft and smooth lips?" She didn't notice, but Wilson's throat was bobbing as he swiftly glanced at her glossy, plump peach lips.
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What was this in his hand? He couldn't see anything, not even his body. Smell like peppermint, tea, and fresh flowers. Was it the thing or the air around him? The thing was jiggly when he vibrates his hands a little. A caramel flan? Or was it tofu? So soft. So smooth. Delicate but bouncy. He loved the feeling against his hand—he couldn't stop playing with it, rubbing it, squeezing it.
Curiosity killed the cat they said, but he wanted to know, at least its taste, so he licked it.
Whatever it was, it reprimanded him. "Hey!! Don't eat my cheek!! You can taste my lips, though.... Want some?" Wilson was petrified that he dropped it. But the thing didn't drop to the ground; it was floating in front of him. The thing had glossy plump peach lips, and slowly he recognized it as it grew into a head, hair, neck, shoulders, arms, body, hips, and legs. It turned into Renata, a very naked Renata. He should have glanced away, but he didn't.
Each step she took to get closer to him answered by a step back from him, until he couldn't go any further. He should have told her to stop, but he didn't. His eyes locked into hers as she pressed her body against him. This time, she took his hands and put them on her shoulders. He commanded them to stop moving, but his hands seemed to have their own mind. They traced her collarbones up to her delicate neck, her jaws, and rested on her supple cheeks.
His lips moved forward, seeking hers. That was when Wilson awakened from his beautiful nightmare in a cold sweat. Heaving with laborious breathing, his chest rapidly rose and fell. Nervously looking at his room's ceiling, relieved he was at his mom's New York apartment, alone. No James next to him; he didn't need to hide his embarrassment. His mom just went abroad yesterday and wouldn't be back until Christmas. He rubbed his face and sat on the edge of his bed, grunting in frustration. He didn't need to look at his unruly little fella, he could feel it, wet.
Almost a week had passed since the day he touched Renata's face, and ever since then, the dream of him touching her never failed to pass him by, not even one night. Some night she let him caress her forearms, or upperarms. Some nights, she let him rub her lips with his thumb. But never before tonight, he ever wanted to kiss that lips so badly that he actually went in for the kill, not in reality or in his sleep.
Disgusted with himself, he stomped out of his room to his bathroom. He hoped the cold water would dissipate his untamed urge. What was he thinking? He knew very well what he thought. Her soft round cheek against his hard hand, her smooth skin against his calloused palms, her cold flesh against his warm muscle. Did other parts of her body also...
"For the love of God...." He couldn't help cursing at himself as he looked down.