She was one of those violently aggressive beauties, the kind that assaulted your senses whenever she was close enough. It was one of three things that you'd first notice, if you caught a glimpse: her blinding smile from a mouth overflowing with perfect, chiclet teeth; her over-large eyes made more so by liberal application of cosmetic designed by the most expert of chemists in a secret laboratory somewhere in Asia; or her perfume: a scent which reminded the olfactory of a mother, or perhaps a grandmother, or that one time you visited a botanical garden and ended up lost in the rose collection. The first depended on how the light was playing on the scene. If she came at you in shadow with the sun at her back, then the searing effect of her open-lipped grin was lost. Same with the eyes: they were often where your own eyes fled to after being tormented by the hyper-sensual mouth. And like some perverted huntress she would stalk you downwind, ensuring that her aroma filled your nostrils the moment before you spun, headlong into her careering prepared presence. A deer in an oncoming car's headlights would have greater chance of being spared the torment of her closeness.
Yet despite all of those things she was one of the most valued commodities in the social circuit. She was the finest accessory that a man could ever hope to have draped over his tuxedoed arm as he made his entrance at whatever soiree he happened to be crashing. And she knew this, and that's why she was so god-damned expensive.
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