East Dulwich Elegance
"Interior designer Adaeze transforms homes across East Dulwich. When bachelor Derek hires her for his flat, she shows him that redesigning his life requires very personal touches."
Derek's flat was a disaster—mismatched furniture, no color sense, the aesthetic of a man who'd given up. His therapist suggested an interior designer. His friend suggested Adaeze.
She swept into his space like a force of nature—Nigerian curves in designer clothes, thick body moving with professional purpose, eyes that saw everything wrong.
"This is worse than the photos."
"Thanks?"
"It means there's nowhere to go but up." She set down her samples. "Tell me about yourself. I can't design a home for someone I don't know."
Their consultations became conversations. She drew out his history—the divorce, the depression, the slow climb back. Her questions were probing but gentle.
"Your home reflects your state of mind," she said one evening. "We're not just changing furniture. We're changing how you live."
"Is that part of the service?"
"It's all the service." She sat beside him, closer than strictly professional. "I can't give you a beautiful home if you don't believe you deserve one."
"Do I?"
"Let me show you."
The first kiss was soft—a question. His answer was to pull her close, feeling her thick body against his.
"This isn't usual procedure," she admitted.
"I don't want usual."
"Good."
She stripped with designer precision, revealing curves that no fabric could improve. Her body was perfect—thick thighs, full breasts, a backside that belonged in a gallery.
"Lie down. Let me design something new."
She rode him on his terrible couch—the one she'd marked for replacement—her thick body moving with aesthetic grace.
"Yes... there... perfect..."
She came with an architect's satisfaction, then demanded more. They christened every room, her moans mixing with her commentary on what would change.
"This bedroom—" gasp "—needs better lighting—" moan "—yes, right there—"
"The bathroom next," she insisted. "Against the tiles you hate."
He took her there, her thick thighs wrapped around him, her back against cold ceramic that she'd already selected replacements for.
"Yes! Don't stop! I'm—"
She came screaming, and the sound echoed. He followed, and they slid to the floor laughing.
"Definitely changing these tiles," she said.
The flat transformation took months. Derek transformed faster.
"It's beautiful," he said when she finished, looking at his new home—and her.
"You're beautiful." She kissed him softly. "The space just needed to match."
"So what happens now? The project's done."
"This project's done." She took his hand. "But I have an ongoing engagement in mind. Long-term. Very hands-on."
"Interior design?"
"Life design." She smiled. "And I always see projects through."
His East Dulwich elegance had redesigned everything. And Derek had never felt more at home.