Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Fashion Show

She did not look like a threat. She looked the opposite of a threat. She wore a white, puffy, synthetic shell of a jacket. And under that, tonight, for some reason, she was wearing a pleated skirt. It peeked out below the jacket, and ended high above her knees. Black tights below that, and still further down slightly over-large boots lined with fake fur. She didn't look threatening, she looked young, cute, almost sweet, except for the knowing sharpness of her eyes. The guard wasn't looking at her eyes.

She pulled the boots off her feet, one at a time, without looking away, then took off the jacket, too. She was wearing a dark, long-sleeved pullover underneath. It was high-necked, hardly revealing, probably chosen for warmth more than looks, but it hugged her figure in a way that I found very distracting.

She nodded to Geraurd, a brief acknowledgement, and a warning.

Overkill? Perhaps. Fun to write? Oh, yes.

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