t e s t o s t e r o n e
When she wears the dress, she knows the victory and pleasure will be hers.
Because they will stare at the sloping neckline, the ring of pearls hanging like glittering ice over her breasts, where they drip lust and shadows. They'll be entranced by the devil-red hue of the dress, how the fabric winds around the contours and curves of her body—
They'll be unable to register the gun gripped by painted nails until her hand slaps against their mouth and brings the bullet, oh, oh that skin—
They will fall, lifeless. And she will walk away, dress swishing after her.
End
I've been forced to put up this instead of the BillyxMandy I was going to because is having an error spasm attack...thing. Dang. Tomorrow I'll put up the BillyxMandy.