This choice: A spoiled rich girl who sets her sights on a trade prince! • Go Back... Trimsibelle Snockle tossed her lustrous hair over her shoulders, shades of deep jade and aquamarine shining from the gently curling locks. She'd just got a new bikini - a red-and-white striped number - and she didn't want even one extra square inch of her skin covered while she sunbathed. It wasn't that she was worried about tanning unevenly. In fact, given the clouds of pollution hanging above Kezan, there was little chance of tanning at all. Tanning wasn't why she was here on the beach.
She was... well, you might call it fishing. But she wasn't after the poison-soaked fish bobbing belly up in the oily ocean waters. She had much juicier prey in mind.
"Ooh, there's a nice one," her sister Jillitrice said, nudging Trimsy and pointing down the beach. "Just look at those muscles!"
Trimsy snorted in the direction of the burly goblin man. "Muscles like that come from doing work."
"So?"
"I'm after a man of means. The only muscles I want to see are the ones in his counting fingers."
Jilli took another lick of her Kajaberry ice cream. "Why? Daddy gives us scads of money. Wouldn't you rather have those big strong arms wrapped around you?"
Trimsy pulled her sunglassed down her delicately pointed nose and looked over them, making no attempt to hide the way she was sizing up her sister's figure. "The way you're stuffing down those ice creams, you'll need a man with strong arms."
Jilli blushed and pulled her knees up to her chest, letting her dark hair fall over her face. "It's only my second cone."
"Since when, the start of this conversation?" Trimsy laughed. "Oh, don't get upset! I'm only joking around. You know I love you no matter how fat you are. Now keep your eyes open, would you? I heard a rumor that a trade prince was going to be on the beach today, and I need to know when you spot him."
"Can't you look?"
Trimsy settled back in the sand, eyes closed. "I don't want him to think I'm here waiting for him or anything."
Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the far end of the beach. Excited voices rang out, along with the flashes, snaps, and occasional small explosions of numerous goblin cameras. Jilli pointed out to sea. "Look, Trimsy!"
Trimsy sat up. An enormous yacht was plowing through the gummy surf, dislodging oil drums and old, deactivated mines. In contrast to the general dinginess of the beach (which was, after all, public--yech) the ship gleamed with a fresh coat of paint and wax and was bedecked with so much polished chrome and copper it was a miracle it wasn't sinking.
"I know that ship!" Trimsy said with excitement in her voice. "That's Wix Bustlevug!"
"The candy guy?" Jilli asked, blinking. "Is he rich?"
"The top confectionary distributor worldwide," Trimsy corrected. "And with girls like you around, of course he's rich!"
"W-well--who knows, maybe he'd like a girl like me better than someone who doesn't appreciate his life's work," Jilli smiled.
Trimsy smirked and stood up, arcing her back and inhaling until her bikini top strained against her chest. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"
Jilli stood up next to her and struck the same pose, pulling in her gut and sucking air into her lungs until she almost squeaked. Trimsy goggled. Suddenly her sister's unfashionable blue one-piece was loose around the middle and tight to the point of bursting around her chest.
"You--you--I saw him first, you tramp!" she snapped. "So don't even think about it!"
"Neither of us has seen him," Jilli pointed out.
"Well-well--shut up!"
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