Prima Donna

She's all high-heeled, fancy shirts, tailored pants and lacy underwear. Who are you hoping will unwrap you? Who do you want to see your lace trim? And will they see it as a thing of beauty or as a ticket for seductive advances? Will it make them want to love you or fuck you?

She's one of those girls who already seems like she's in her late twenties. Her face is a poster, a perfume ad. If she weren't so dainty and thin, I would have thought her to be a career woman, not a student. The veins on her hands stand out, like my mother's hand. Her feet are the same, clad in beige netted high heels. She's proper in the way that you can't picture her in the morning, hair disheveled, and no makeup, clad in a baggy shirt. No, she probably sleeps with her hair kept safe in a net, wearing tiny silky lacy pretty things. As if Prince Whoever might find her while she's sleeping. As if he'd kiss her and then she'd be happy. All the makeup, all the primping, and all the expensive clothes would be worth it…Finally.