Debra takes stock

by DRM


Debra loosened the oversized bath towel from around her breasts and let it fall to the floor.  She pushed it away with her foot and stepped back slightly so that the soles of her feet rest on the sliver of tile warmed by the strong morning sun.

She faced the mirror.  She took inventory.  Her nails were crisp and the skin on her feet was soft.  Her legs were smooth.  She had one scrape on her left calf, and a bruise on her thigh on the same leg.  Between her legs, the curve of her pudenda vanished smoothly between her thighs in an unnatural and alluring way.

She looked closely at her mid-section.  Her belly was flat. Maybe a slight swell. Her hips met her waist with only an imperceptible curve.  Her figure was athletic. She liked that

Her breasts swelled and the tips of her nipples protruded from the faint coloring of her aureola.  The right breast was slightly higher and fuller than the left.  She looked closely for the scars.  She couldn’t see anything.

She moved quickly along the span of her chest.  She loved the way her collarbone accented the bottom of her throat and the firmness of her shoulders.  Her cheekbones were small and prominent.  Her skin would redden here with exertion.  She was careful not to smile too brightly when she was excited.  She didn’t like the pictures she saw of herself then.

She shook her head slightly and watched the skin beneath her chin.  She lowered her chin and smiled thinly.  The skin folded and bunched in a narrow roll.  She would talk to the doctor.

Her eyes held her gaze: full, open and frank.  Intense, wired blue.

She touched her fingers to the soft skin beneath her eyes.  The pads of her fingers were firm and a little rough.  She pushed at her skin, felt the tiny calcium deposits beneath the surface.  She ran the tips of her fingers down the sides of her nose. A few grains of the magical white dust clung to her fingertips. She ran them to her lips, rubbed them along the inside.

Hands at her side, she took herself in for one quick moment.  Then, she turned slightly, bent her left leg, ran her right hand down her waist, pushed her breast up with her other hand and rolled the nipple slightly.  She could feel a infinitesimal tingle.  She lowered her chin to her shoulder, stepped up on her toes, shadowed her eyes and pursed her lips in a pout.

She looked hot.  Fresh and hot.  She smiled.  She wished she had a camera.