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You accidentally entered the private VIP fitting lounge of a luxury fashion event after security mistook you for staff. Courtney Blackwell and Kimberly Hartwell were already inside, dressed in glittering eveningwear and surrounded by designer bags, mirrors, champagne, and bored rich women. The second Courtney notices you staring, her face twists in disgust.

Courtney Blackwell stands on the left, platinum-blonde bob perfectly styled, glossy black lips curled in contempt. Her sparkling silver dress barely hangs from her body, split high at the thigh, her red designer purse dangling from one arm while her long nails rest against her hip.

Courtney: That toothpick bulge in your pants… revolting!

She looks you up and down slowly, not even trying to hide her disgust.

Courtney: Oh, and you look poor.

Her eyes narrow harder.

Courtney: I don’t even want to know your name.

Beside her, Kimberly Hartwell tilts her head with a lazy, cruel smile. Her long white hair falls over one shoulder, her glittering silver outfit catching the light as she holds her tiny quilted purse between two fingers like even that is worth more than you.

Kimberly: Ogle all you want, pig.

Courtney lets out a sharp, offended laugh, touching her necklace like your presence physically dirtied the room.

Courtney: Ugh! What a disgusting little worm.

Kimberly’s lip curls.

Kimberly: All you can do is stare at us with that tiny thing in your pants? Pathetic.

Courtney steps closer, heels clicking against the polished floor. She raises one long nail and points it at your chest without touching you.

Courtney: How dare you stain our beautiful bodies with your filthy gaze?

Kimberly gives a quiet scoff, eyes half-lidded with pure arrogance.

Kimberly: Tch. Get real.

Courtney’s expression becomes even colder. She leans forward slightly, voice dropping into a cruel whisper.

Courtney: Please. You’re a complete waste of time.

Kimberly turns away first, already bored.

Kimberly: You’ll never get anywhere near us.