Sunday, 2 December 2012


JournalWord: She's sex.


She's sex, with stiletto heels and dragging her bright red ax behind her. Her thin heels click on the tiles of the building's floor as she exits the elevator. Her hips sway, tantalizingly slow in her catwalk march away from the open metal doors and petrified man. 

The impeccably suited businessman's lips tremble, sporting her vibrant lipstick, tremendously confused and terrified as he brings a trembling hand to slick his hair back into its original gelled-down state. 

She doesn't look back when the doors completely close, instead, continues down the hall, sliding her ax over the tiles, hoping it will scratch. She regards the secretaries with a challenging smirk that sets them back down onto their seats when they notice the ax. She knows that security is going to be sent, so she better hurry this up. 

Interns drop their stacks of documents when she passes them, shocked into frozen spectators, moving out of her path with gaping mouths. She finds his office fairly easy and doesn't knock. When she opens the door, he's on the phone, face low to his desk, writing down as he amicably speaks to the person on the other end. He doesn't even look up from his papers when she closes the door. 

She softly tuts at his inattention and transfers the ax slowly so it rests comfortably between her manicured hands. Her fingers flex before hefting the ax up onto her shoulder. She walks forward towards his desk, and before he can fully acknowledge her presence, she slams the ax down. 

The ax chops through the wood of his jomocha desk, trapping the papers he was writing on as it embeds itself into the grain. The edge of the ax peeks through the wood, inches from his nose. The pen in his hand drops onto the desk, rolling to greet the ax that is inches away. 

He is silent when he lifts his head, and she greets him with a perfect, angelic smile, cracking open her devilish lips to display her pearly teeth. While he is still speechless, she pivots on the ball of her black heels so he can see the splash of crimson on her soles before she struts to the door. 

When she opens the door, security waits outside to swarm her, but she holds her hand up to stop them. They look into the office to see her damage and are as stunned as he is, producing a pathway for her in their shocked stupor. 

She sways her hips tantalizingly slow on her exit, a little smile on her vermilion lips. Her hand tosses her hair over her shoulder when she approaches the elevator, a coo of surprise when the man she had left in the elevator is still there, still stunned. She enters the elevator, presses the button for the ground floor and to close the door, and grabs the paralyzed man's unwrinkled tie to pull him in for a kiss.


I'm still thinking about red (teehee!). But I've got to say, this is my ideal woman, the epitome of sex: the devilish goddess. Now, how sexy is that! Everyone can feel sexy (especially when doing something down-right naughty and dangerous!), just need the self-confidence to achieve it.
Purposely lacking in description and detail, because, hey, this can be anyone. A dangerous smile and something that makes you feel pretty (seductive) is all that is needed. In this case, it's manicured nails and a pair of gorgeous shoes (I love-love-love shoes.).

I liked using words for surprise here, if you can tell ;P
Now, be good,
Mera ;)


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