VITIATION

It had been the only remaining item, in the old Victorian mansion. It hang precariously on the old dusty wall, thou way back, it was pinned so strongly, but now so loose, an indication of just how time had passed by. A memory worth everything she could ever posses, and this, she knew all too well. It had so much life in itself, a masterpiece that even the greatest of the artists would have prolly accepted. A closer look at it, one could feel a certain connection, portrayed by a mysterious feeling, that it was no ordinary hand and pencil, down on paper, but it yielded far much than that.

Chin cocked slightly, enough to showcase the part joining the shoulder and the head, which is the neck. The pink juicy lips, that any man would have loved and desired to drink from the bubbly cup of their poisoned taste, parted slightly, leaving a desirable opening that very well, if not perfectly, displayed the teeth , white as snow, well arranged in a systematic manner. The blonde hair, tamed slithery into a French twist fell slightly on her pink cheekbones, covering a apart of her hazel eyes, that were surrounded by a pond of well planted eyelashes, shaped up to appear splendid, as well as glossy, in such a sexily provocative manner. The well curved body was supported by the pair of sponged up hips, that lean comfortably on the black and white piano, as the long red Cinderella dress ,flawless like ever, covered most of the space of where she seductively stood.

Damn! She was a beauty to withhold, and even her inner goddess marvelled, in acknowledgement, and she liked it, she very well knew that she can be inviting as well as enticing, if she wanted to, and that is what she was, at that time. Even with her feet perfectly stuffed into her high heels, a certain familiar twinge would shoot up occasionally, a quick pain that the only one man knew how to do away with, in his own wicked way that only both of them knew.

Having had enough of herself on the wall, she gracefully stood straight up, picking up the glass of champagne that was on the well curved out table, beside her. She held it loosely on her right hand, shaking it frequently as she could, licking the brim seductively, with a lazy smile implanted on her lips.
She was well acclimatized to the fact that she had screwed up, lost the only man whom she had ever loved, and that could not at any one time, be reversed, no matter the cost. This was the part where even if she traded her soul with the devil himself, it wouldn’t sound much of a fair trade.