Re: In the woods, near a path
So this was what it felt like.
She wore pink, and her heels were to her thighs. She was the kind of woman that drew the eye in a crowded room, and it had nothing to do with how pretty her face was. Don't get me wrong now; the girl was a looker, but beauty was confidence. Anyone could have a pretty face, but even a plain woman could pull it off with a little brass. She was lovely, but it was the cant of her hip, the way she made eye contact with anyone who looked her way. She had a way of looking people in the face, of paying attention, of making someone feel like they were the only person in the room, in the world. There was confidence in the sway of her hips as she walked away from the wall of false truths. This was a dance, and the girl was a bombshell ballerina.
She'd arrived.
Her dress was pink and short, and her boots were heeled and tall. She manuevered the room like she'd wowed an adoring crowd every day since puberty. This was the It Girl. She was every high school boy's wet dream, and she wasn't anything they could acquire. She was a pin-up that wouldn't put out. She'd worn a homecoming sash, and she dated a college quarterback, and everyone she slept with thought she was the best they'd ever had. She mingled, and she laughed, and she didn't draw away from touch. She touched. Her hands rested on shoulders, on pecs, on the hips of other women. She was fearless. She was a woman who knew she was wanted. She was a woman who took what she wanted. She didn't wait for anyone to give her anything. She was disaster and heartbreak. Love 'em and leave 'em. She should've come with a warning sign: Caution. Heartbreak ahead.
She wasn't for the taking. She was meant to make people drool, but she didn't spread her thighs easily. This girl wasn't butter. She didn't melt. She had you at hello, and she was smiling by the time she waggled her little fingers goodbye.
She transferred fuzzy liquid from one champagne flute to another, doubling up unapologetically, and she took a long swallow before she walked out onto the deck. Beauty sipped, and she talked and flirted, but she found herself bored. She was too perfect for this, and it was curiosity that led her into the woods. Why? Why not. The night was beautiful, and she wasn't scared. She wasn't scared of anything tonight. Three flutes of champagne in, and she thought the world was gilded in wonder and beauty. She was powerful, and that was better than any bubbly in crystal.
She heard the whistling, and hello. This was your lucky day. She followed the sound, this fox for the evening, and she slowed in those perilous boots as she neared danger in leather. "Looking for me?"