Dragon's Heir

Chapter 1-3-2

There were three other women here who had beaten her to the punch. Tamara thought she was going to be early, but she was proved utterly wrong. There were three goddesses already sitting in the room, each of them looking like supermodels frozen and put on display in the most luxurious and alluring position that was available. She looked at all of them, taking each of them in one at a time, studying them and trying her hardest to find a weakness, something to make her rise above them. It was difficult for her to find a fault or an issue with each of them. It was like sifting through a vat of gold in hopes of finding a speck of dust.

The first was a redhead who was sitting on a couch with her legs crossed, delicately touching her chin as she stared off into the void. She was thin and delicately formed. While there was little muscle on her, which by no means meant that she was weak. Her chin was sharp, as were her cheekbones. Her eyes were a sparkling pair of sapphires that glittered and filled her with a strange sort of fire. It was like there was something within them that burned through her.

She wore a top that was bafflingly slinky and revealed her chest and cleavage, but strangely enough, through some kind of magic, Tamara thought, it didn’t show her n*****s, her skirt was tight and showed of her long, smooth legs that weren’t nearly as defined as Tamara’s, but still had a presence that was unavoidable.

The second woman was standing, pacing back and forth without any interest in Tamara at all. Her skin was dark, like rich mahogany and her eyes were black as onyx, glinting in the light from the walls. Her features were soft, but they were powerful. She did not have a weave or anything to make her not look natural. Her hair was big, it was glorious, and it made a statement. She was wearing a yellow dress that hugged her, revealing her shoulders and her strong arms. As she walked in her yellow heels, she looked regal, majestic, and powerful. There was something about the way she moved that suggested strength and fearlessness. She was a contender that Tamara felt truly worried about. On her wrists, bangles tinkled and danced with a lively song that dug at Tamara.

The last woman had long black hair cut into a bob that looked impossible to move. It was almost as if it had been adhered to her head and not a single hair was out of place. She sat on the arm of a couch across from the red-haired girl and stared at her phone. She wore a choker around her graceful, pale neck and she wore a halter top shirt that hugged her body so tight that it looked like it might strangle her. Her tight pants fitted her so closely that she was going to have to cut herself out of them to get out.

It did its job, though. Her clothing absolutely showed off her entire body, making her look incredible. While a lot of people probably thought she was trashy looking, probably everyone else in the room, but they were fools. They all looked beautiful. They all looked like the epitome of the female body. It was horrifying to see all of these women. There was no way that she was supposed to go up against all of them and succeed.

Sitting down, she examined these three women and thought it over, trying very hard to figure out what was going to give her the edge. Physically, it was really just a matter of preference. You would find perfect women, regardless of your tastes, in this room. Right now, there was no physical contest between them. Sure, the redhead was skinnier than the rest of them, but that didn’t mean much. Tamara looked at everyone and saw only equals here. What were they looking for? Maybe this was going to be less about the physical than she thought and more about something else she hadn’t anticipated.

The door to the lounge opened and in came another woman. She was as blonde as the golden sunrise and had a smile that was blindingly white. Her face looked like it had been sculpted out of the silicone dreams of men who never got over the head cheerleader at their high school. Her hair was big and bright, framing her perfect face with bubblegum lips and sparkling blue eyes. Her breasts were large, pushed up by her bra and her white shirt hung off one shoulder, revealing her midriff and showing her belly button piercing. She wore white pants and pumps that told everyone just how long and statuesque her legs were, as well.

She looked over her shoulder at the four of us and then headed to the bar where the bartender was more than happy to smile and quietly ask her what it was that she would be drinking. She ordered bourbon and it didn’t surprise Tamara one bit that she had a southern accent. She looked the part. She wasn’t trashy, but she definitely had the air of a southern belle.

As soon as the glass clinked against the surface of the bar, the doors opened and another woman entered. She walked with the statuesque precision of a woman who had been groomed and trained for this kind of a situation. She was shorter than the rest of the girls, but she was no less beautiful. Her sharp, almond eyes searched around, looking at the others in the room, studying them just like Tamara had when she entered. There was far less subtlety with her, however. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun and she held herself with much grace and composure. The dress she wore formed to her body, like someone had poured dark, glossy oil over her body and called it good. She sat down in a chair, prim and proper, unlike anything that Tamara had seen in the other women present.

Tamara didn’t like the look of her. She looked like a serious threat. She looked like someone who was going to cause her serious trouble. This was a woman who looked like she knew her stuff and wasn’t here to play around. To the credit of everyone else, they didn’t look like that either, but she just had more of an intimidating demeanor.

With seven of them present, Tamara felt nervous about what was to come. How many more were there going to be? How many more women could there possibly be in this application process? Should they have weeded out more of them in the earlier stages of the application process? She glanced at the door, horrified as she saw two more people come through the doors.

One was a tall black woman, her hair shaved and smooth, with eyes that looked like crackling fire, with a warmth and potency to them that made her alarming. She wore a tube top and a pair of jeans that were exceptionally made. She looked like a supermodel that should be put up on every billboard. Her skin was darker than the other black woman, much more rich and deep. She didn’t look like she was from around here. Either way, regardless of where she was from, this woman was stunning and she was impossible to forget. She was laughing with the other woman she came in with, gently touching her on the shoulder like old friends. This bothered Tamara too. Was this going to give them an advantage?

The second woman was another redhead who had hair like fire, orange and striking, like curls of molten steel that framed her lovely pale face. Unlike the other woman present with red hair, hers was definitely natural, not the crimson color of the previous. Her fair skin was spattered with beautiful freckles that made her look charming and delightful. Her white smile was a beam of light as she tossed her curly hair and walked in wearing an emerald summer dress that made her seem bold and courageous. She wasn’t the kind of woman who shied away from the colors she shouldn’t be wearing, according to popular tradition. She guided the two over to the lounge where the rest of the applicants were sitting and they both sat down together.

This had to be it. Tamara was horrified by the thought of any more coming to the process. There couldn’t be more. There was no way there could be more. This was it, right?

As if fate hadn’t been hating on her enough, the doors opened and in walked a woman in all black, wearing everything that Tamara was too terrified to ever wear. Her hair was shaved on the sides, with only silky, straight pink hair on top of her head. Her face was beautiful, impossibly pure looking, like the face of an angel that went rogue and at some point, started living a very rough life. She had tattoos on her neck and her ears were pierced more times than she probably cared to count. Shoulders and arms were bare, except for the myriad of inked figures on them that adorned them. She was wearing something that looked like a black corset and black leather pants that hugged her body in all the ways that made her look dangerous.

In the kind of lifestyle that she was leaving behind with this application, it made Tamara wonder. How many hard, dangerous people had wanted a piece of her and she had to fight them off?

So ten, that was it. Ten was a round number. That was a reasonable number for her to accept. Why would there be more than ten applicants in this final process? It made perfect sense to her. There could be no possible explanation for why there should be more.

The doors opened again and two more women walked through. The first had long straight hair that was as dark as chocolate and skin that was as olive and gorgeous as any that Tamara could ever dream of. There was no way in a thousand sessions at the tanning salon could Tamara ever hope to have a color that was as bold or glorious as this woman’s skin. Her eyes were dark and welcoming, but there was something deeply wild and fiery in them. It was marvelous to see her looking around the room, walking like a tall goddess who had come down to visit them. It was something beautiful and impressive to see. It was hard to tell which of the women were now more intimidating, and there was still another.

The second and hopefully last of the women was another woman with blonde hair so pale and so bright that it practically looked like silver. She was a thin woman, a woman who was graceful and lovely, but her breasts were enormous, which gave the sign that she was a woman who had worked very hard to bring her weight down from greater numbers, to this thin figure that stood before them now. She was dressed sensibly and professionally in her attire, but it hugged her body tightly and accented everything she had worked so hard for. That kind of determination was something that alarmed Tamara. It was the look of a woman who was willing to do whatever was necessary to make sure that she succeeded in her goals and her designs.

Thankfully, she turned out to be the last of the applicants to arrive. She looked around at all of them, sitting at high, modern pub tables, on the couches, or pacing around like caged tigers, fierce and lovely.

It was tense. The temptation to bond with them or to talk with them was overwhelming, but it was ill advised. It was something that no one wanted to do, for fear of the future competition. It was very likely that they were all from across the country and that meeting and laughing with them would only end in a farewell and never to see them again. So Tamara sat silently, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.