Vanity

She wore the green of a soft spring, its fabric sheer - translucent against the pink of her youthful skin. Her lines were soft and kind from leg to shoulder, with large breasts heavy on her small frame.

Gently lifting her red hair, she turned and examined her profile in the reflection of the vanity mirror. A line of large bulbs ran atop its silver marquee, casting a sharp glow from all but one broken globe.

She turned to one side, than the other, judging her legs and the lines of her garments. Her trembling fingertips ran across her stomach, down her legs, back up, and in between them.

Clenching her hands, she closed her eyes and reached for the short brass doorknob.

As the door gently opened, a gentleman's hand could be seen amidst a pile of white sheets. Her bare feet moving slowly against the soft tan carpet. Catching the switch with her finger, a flash from her silver necklace filled the room just before the darkness...