The next morning, Nikki found herself in a battle of vanity and determination. She sat in front of the mirror, her blonde hair refusing to cooperate.
The curling iron seemed to mock her as strands slipped free, stubbornly straightening the moment she let go.
"Come on, work with me here," she muttered, wrangling her golden locks into submission.
Finally, with the last curl falling perfectly by her cheekbone, she let out a triumphant sigh.
She slipped on a crisp white dress shirt and, as expected, the second button didn't stand a chance.
"The perks of being blessed with D cups," she muttered, smirking at her reflection.
The shirt gaped slightly, revealing her black push-up bra, which did a spectacular job lifting and framing her assets.
She let the neckline remain open, placing a delicate heart-shaped pendant just above the swell of her cleavage.
Next came the skirt, a high-waisted, black pencil number that should've fit perfectly. But as she slid it up her thighs, it became a struggle.
"Am I... getting fat?" she gasped, staring at the mirror in disbelief.
The fabric clung tightly to her hips, emphasizing the dramatic curve of her pear-shaped figure.
She groaned, yanking at the zipper with both hands for a full ten minutes before it finally surrendered.
Once it was on, though, the fit was undeniably stunning.
It hugged every contour of her hips and waist, and she couldn't help but smirk.
She slipped on her black stilettos, elongating her already long, toned legs, and swept her hair up into a sleek knot, leaving one perfectly styled curl to dangle over her shoulder.
She grabbed her clipboard, slipped on her fake credentials, and added a final touch, oversized glasses that screamed "Sexy librarian."
Turning to the mirror, she struck a pose, the cigar hanging loosely from her lips. She exuded confidence, her smirk mischievous and tantalizing.
"Guess who's seducing Daddy today?" she purred, her chuckle low and dripping with seduction.
With that, she grabbed her bag, smoothed down her skirt, and sashayed out of her room, her heels clicking against the floor like a prelude to chaos.