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SHE.

She has long, flowing jet-black hair, with wave-like ridges that cascade from tiny follicles to the tip of her split ends. She kisses sweetly, her crimson plump lips quiver slightly before every electric kiss. She has a lust for adventure, and loves to be around strangers simply to feed off their different, complex energies. She believes every person she encounters has something to offer her, something that will influence any one aspect of her personality, her movements, her traits.

The way that man on the bus squinted his eyes as he gave her a suspicious once-over, that was the way she’d give a dirty look to someone who crossed her, she decided. That woman she saw sit on her boyfriend’s lap on the bench at the park, she decided it was her new tactic of straddling her next one-night-stand. She saw a man tip his hat to her one time, in the style of a 1940s gentleman. She decided this was the way she’d pique the attention of the next handsome man who looked her way. An old-fashioned sign of courtesy and respect, she’d utilize it the next time she wore her favorite black suede derby hat. An element of surprise, she thought. No man would ever see it coming.

She was out of the ordinary -extraordinary, even-  as some of her male victims would describe her. Strikingly beautiful, a face so perfect she looked like a model out of the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalog. It was her slight flaws which made her perfect, none that could be seen at any once glance, only visible to those who could see her at an inch’s distance. Her left eye placed slightly lower than her right, a flaw that made her face so gorgeous, but couldnt be seen unless you leaned in to swipe a fallen eyelash off the bridge of her slightly bumped nose. One centimeter of her top lip plumped out more than the rest of her lips, but you couldn’t tell unless you were applying lipgloss on that empty canvas yourself.

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