Everything she liked was either rouge, textured or helpless. She could paint her pout with Chanel Ruby Red, scrape her nails down a jute rug or clean up endless spills from her canine terror.
She was a throwback species who encountered a bit of success with her high heeled strappy shoes and pin curled waves. A brief slip of her strap lead her eyes down to the small tear in her noir thigh high stockings. It was not long before a knock at the door would reveal what she had been waiting for. "Just a second" she whimpered as she fidgeted with her pencil skirt and fastened her bobby pin. The door opened. A quick glance and SLAM.