Nickleforanything

Femme Fatale: Jane Birkin

Would she? No. But still.  When the sun was out was when she thought about it. Not the sun, but the pinpricks of sweat, the bloom of a scent. She recalled him outside and warm. The A/C buzzed on.  Inside this room, with a glass of wine and a hard 72 hours in front of her, different. Have you seen yourself against a future self ten years, 20 years down the road? A wedding was work, basically. No, it was fun, it was fun. She drank. Beads of condensation on the glass. She put it down on the bed stand. 

There was a full length mirror in this room.She folded her arms beneath her breasts. Can you feel like you can do anything? She had her suitcases on the stands and the pants she planned to wear tonight, 90-percent ironed now, splayed out on the bed. Have you ever really considered yourself? She liked these panties, they flattered her. She stood up straighter to confirm herself. Yeah. I mean, goddamn. I’m hot. The room was empty besides her in it,  72 hours to go. 

It was not hard to imagine him and his beautiful face behind her. His hands on her hips.