Andre - Page 193

Your eyes wander over the gentle curves of the most attractive woman you could possibly imagine. She is different from the others. Her uniqueness sets her apart.

She lies back, seemingly disinterested, under Starry Night. You know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is the one you are meant to be with. For eternity. Unlike most of the other women in the room, her long hair is dyed a shimmering gradient of blue and white. She turns to meet your hungry gaze with piercing eyes surrounded in dark makeup. I know her... you think, scouring your memory for her name.

Instead of flaunting her nakedness like the rest, she is clothed, albeit seductively. Shining black boots lace up her legs to the thigh, replete with polished chrome buckles. Her chest is barely covered by a tight fitting black corset emblazoned with small bronze gears and the space between her legs is only partially concealed with a thin pair of black lace panties.

As if acting on their own, your feet begin to walk toward her. The other women purr and reach toward you as you pass them, all of them offering themselves to you with longing gazes. That is the one I need, you think, unable to tear your eyes from the blue-haired personification of beauty before you.

The perfectly formed woman turns away, crossing her legs and moving her eyes to the painting on the wall behind her. You reach out with one hand, dropping your axe in the process, and gently caress her shoulder. She shivers, stealing a sidelong glance through her blue hair that makes your blood pump so hard that your heart nearly bursts.

Without a word, the woman slides her body to the side and pats the cushion next to her. Less than gracefully, you fall to the padded seat and clumsily grope at her leather boots. She shoots you a playful smile and you notice the ring pierced through the center of her bottom lip. "You're perfect," you stutter, not knowing what to say.

A miniature top hat sits atop her silky blue and white hair like a crown. Little brass gears whirl and spin beneath a band of black lace that secures the hat.

"Andre," she whispers, pulling you in close and pressing her lips to yours. The cold metallic taste of her piercing fills your mouth just before her tongue touches yours.

Yes, you conclude, I've made the right choice.