Post by rina matsumoto on Oct 3, 2013 10:09:18 GMT -8
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #CCCCCC; border: #996699 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] can anybody out there hear me? The deep brown eyes of the Japanese mestiza glittered with a dull mischief as she sauntered down the pavement, her usual accessories of white Beats headphones - fake of course - found in her bag. The only noises accompanying the sound of her heavy footsteps, echoing thanks to the stiletto heel of her shoes, was the low chit chat and hustle and bustle of the city after dark. It wasn't exactly the best part of town she was in, you see - she was going off to see a certain friend of hers who you didn't see in the Cadillacs and the Phantoms around Hollywood. However that didn't make him any less important to the again-brunette. It was a good thing she was only average in height - she didn't like like an Amazonian freak in her last pair of semi-designer shoes that hadn't been trashed by the constant use or the contents of someone's alcohol poisoned stomach. She grinned as she got close, adjusting the straps of her almost inexistent dress. He liked it when she wore little, you see. The amount of caramel coloured skin on show was simply tantalising, hard to resist. Tonight was going to be a little different than the way her head had originally played it. Slower. Teasing out that sexual tension to its limit. Yeah, that sounded good. A moment of feeling like the man in front of her really wanted her instead of for the mounds on her chest, highly sexualised by society's need to "objectify" women, in the words of a feminist, and what was between her pretty little toned legs. Jay was the closest to that relationship she wanted though. Well, the crazy sex was there, definitely. But casual sex was a little like a diet. You get fed, but you don't feel... Full. A little like going to McDonalds and getting yourself the side salad. Doesn't sustain you for long, so by the walk of shame you've come down from the natural endorphin fuelled high. Rap rap rap. Three, precise knocks at his door, before standing with her hands behind her back, eyes shining with mischief. Perhaps because she had a little something up her sleeve. cant seem to hear myself |
