The Mirror
She stood before the mirror studying herself... bright blue eyes moving from
feet upward, intently gazing at the rounded slenderness of her calf, the way the
silk brushes against the top of her thighs ... the angle of her hip as she turns
it out.
She is still thin ... her collar bone prominent. Canting her head, she turns
slowly... her gaze never leaving the mirror as she continues her appraisal.
There is a flush to her cheeks that was not there before; the sparkle is
returning to her eyes, but there is a depth revealed there speaking of a hunger
that is beginning to layer on top of the fear. She is not the playful
child-woman who came to Gor. She is not the joy who hid in the greenhouse.
She presses her shoulders back, her eyes dropping to her breasts. Shaking her
head, she grins. She is obviously not as generously endowed as some others, but
still ...
She turns again, fascinated and confused.
"It is me ... and it is not .... "