She wears a long fur coat of mink
She stepped out of the bathtub, and uncaring, allowed the water to pool on the elaborately patterned tile floor. Critically she eyed her body in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall directly before her. What she saw was smooth tawny skin, legs that seemed to extend forever, pert breasts, and a triangle of pubic hair so neatly trimmed and coiffed that it was worth admiring.
She did not need to assess her looks. That she was a beautiful woman was a matter of fact. Her features were fine and aquiline, worthy of any royal European family. Dark eyes framed by even darker lashes only served to accentuate her beauty. And though her hair was swept up to protect it from the water's effects, she knew that there would be no faults found there. Her dark locks, as soft and silky as any motion picture star, would slide easily through the fingers of the man privileged enough to caress it.
She's got big thoughts, big dreams,
With all the aplomb of a film star, she stepped into the upscale club and restaurant. Her confidence was almost intimidating, and the normally reserved maitre d' rushed forward to remove the impressive floor-sweeping Russian Sable coat from her shoulders. "Permettez-moi, Mademoiselle."
She smiled at the sound of the man's sharply indrawn breath. It was a knowing, woman's smile, filled with a kind of pitying condescension at the predictability of men.
All eyes turned her way. Head to toe, she was magnificence personified. From the dark curls which framed her face to the close-fitting red strapless dress which hugged her shapely body, she was all woman.
She wants to lead the glamorous life
"Filet de Poisson Decatur."*
The snobbish maitre d's admiration grew as his beautiful customer selected the least chosen, but in his opinion, finest dish served there. Her mastery of the language was flawless and she conversed with all the confidence of a native.
"Excellent choice, Mademoiselle." He graciously acknowledged his admiration by responding in what he chanced to be her native tongue. "And the wine?"
She gave him a brief smile of genuine warmth. "I will entrust myself into your hands."
She saw him standing in the section marked
She watched him pour a glass of the rich liquid and present it for her examination. With an ease that had become second nature due to much practice, she inhaled the bouquet.
"Magnificent!" she breathed reverently upon first taste.
The maitre d' savored the sight of her beauty. Her eyes were closed and her head slightly tilted back, emphasizing both the elegant line of her throat and the enormous diamond necklace she wore.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she fixed her dark brown eyes upon him. "An excellent choice."
Regretfully he shook his head. "Would that I could take credit, Mademoiselle. It is," with a flourish he indicated the bottle of wine, "a gift from an admirer."
She nodded once in acceptance of her unknown benefactor's generosity. She did not need to look around the room for him. No doubt he had watched the entire exchange and knew that his tribute had been graciously received.
Boys with small talk and small minds
She vacated the restaurant, well aware of all the stares directed her way. As she moved elegantly across the expanse of the place, she neither relished the looks nor did she resent them. They were what they were - a tribute, however unwillingly at times - to her breathtaking beauty.
The maitre d' waved off another restaurant employee who rushed to assist the stately beauty in donning once more her full-length sable coat. "It has been our immense pleasure to serve you this evening, mademoiselle. Transportation has been arranged for you." He gallantly took her hand and lightly pressed his lips to her fingers. "Please...come again."
Her lips curved in a satisfied smile. The evening had gone well.
She wants to lead the glamorous life
Her aplomb was such that she did not falter upon seeing the enormous black limousine which idled quietly before her.
Her unknown benefactor. No doubt believing that a bottle of wine, however magnificent, was the price he would pay for her company.
"Allow me to see you home."
His voice and his silent approach startled her. She turned, prepared to politely refuse his unspoken offer. And heard herself say, "Thank you. I will," as she stared into a pair of piercing obsidian eyes.
"Michael Corleone," the baby-faced young man introduced himself quietly.
Filet de Poisson Decatur - A grilled filet of fish served on a bed of eggplant provencal (eggplant, tomatoes, red onions and garlic sauteed in olive oil)