As she stepped down from the bleached tile of her lavatory.
With her wet white shaped naked body
And with her dark gloomy hair dripping on the floor
She grabs a towel beside her and wipes her wet gloomy locks.
She saunter a few steps
Then gently she turned around to face the looking glass
Seeing her own reflection of beauty.
Her tanned vast eye were eloquent and ardent looking at hers
Her countless lushes are deep curled below her dark brows
And her roseate cheeks are blushing beside her ears.
Her muzzle is naturally high-bridge
And her lips are bloody red as she colored them with her scarlet lipstick.
Then the moment she put down her cosmetic
She gives a provocative smile to herself and she turn off to the mirror.
She turn around and walked into her closet.
Her long fingernails not painted with any, was sliding on the hangers deciding what to sport in.
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.
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A pinkish sweater
No.
A floral dress?
No.
A blue jeans?
No.
A mini skirt with a sleeveless on top?
Definitely no!
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Finally her hand stopped in a black hanger
She sluggishly pulled up
A skirt
A blue necktie
A white polo
And a long socks dark socks
Right!
The school uniform?
It so straightforward and plain for a beauty she is carrying.
But what is fashion when you are like a Christmas tree with a hundred of accessories tied in your neck.
She sits on her elastic hoary bed and started to put on the black stockings on her toes
Then she moved her hands and reach for her polo shirt
Lightly she put them on.
She fastens the five buttons and fixed its collar
Finally she stretches her long legs and put the skirt on.
She stood up.
Then again she faced the mirror
She picks up her neck tie and tied them round her folded collar.
She bends her knees on the floor to tie her four inches high heeled close shoes.
Finally she rise up straight with her hair following her head and again she look into the mirror.
And carved a provocative smile in her face before leaving off her reflection.
She halt in front of the ingress,
held his hand on her bag
Smiles,
And finally she took a deep breath and opens the door.
YOU ARE READING
Her Beauty :)
Teen FictionIts not a story, its not a poem and its not a tale. its HER