An excerpt from a story I'm writing. Apologies if the situation seems a bit trite -- it's really part of a much longer work and this isn't even at the heart of it. But I had a good time writing this bit.
Six years ago, Myra was my date for the senior prom. I was to pick her up at Manong Mario's. I came an hour early and so I waited in their living room. The loud argument that came from the room above as Myra wrestled with her mom was my early evening entertainment. "No, I'm not wearing that!" "Myra Zephira Lleynes, you are putting on this ribbon!" "Mo-oooommm!" Manong Mario cocked an eyebrow and looked at me sternly as I struggled to contain my bemusement, but I could tell he was only doing a better job than I was.
But the vision that finally floated down the stairs? Aah, she was celestial. That was the first time I saw Myra with her long hair down, draped around her bare shoulders and guided only by two small clip bows. Her dress, the color of champagne, hugged her tiny breasts and showed off her curvy waist before blowing outward bouffant. As she navigated the steps, Myra precariously balanced on heeled shoes.
Only Manong Mario clearing his throat made me snap my slack jaw shut.
The dress must've done some magic to Myra. When she landed in the living room, she said nothing, but only fluttered her eyelids at me. She had the barest of makeup on, just a touch of foundation and highlight and lip gloss, but it all only served to highlight her natural beauty.
Then she punched me in the arm. I let out a yelp.
"Just to let you know who you're dealing with," she grinned evilly, "the dress changes nothing. Let's go, Romeo."
All eyes were on her that night. Hardly anyone could believe it was Myra. I had my hands full keeping away the evening's lecherous vultures. I ought to have done a better job, too -- Myra would have been chosen prom queen if she hadn't walloped a persistent amorous junior over the head with her handbag.