She stood with her back to me, in a corseted top of white lace with sleeves that fell off of her shoulders in a bare exposure. The skirt was a murky black, flowing gracefully down to the floor and her feet, with nothing more than a deep, ocean blue sash tied around her waist. To the outsider she looked much like a gypsy, only without the excessive adornments. The only decoration to her, or so it seemed, was a red rose she wore in her hair, pinned beside her ear to compliment the long, glossy black waves as they traveled to the center of her back. She faces me, just enough to see her tender, feminine face. Large, brilliant blue eyes, high, delicate cheekbones, and lustful, swollen lips that seem to be painted a natural, seductive red. A smile is on her face. Is it friendliness… or a passion untamed?1
Author notes
Not a story, more like an image in my head that I needed to describe extensively. I'm growing rather fond of her.
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