Gizzel's reflection in the ornate vanity mirror offered a stark contrast to the turbulent emotions churning within her. Her long, slender fingers, trembling slightly, meticulously applied a crimson lipstick, a vibrant slash against her pale skin. It was a mask, a carefully constructed facade to conceal the nervous energy that threatened to spill over.
After all one must always have her guard up.
She then leaned closer, appraising her own worth as if she were a prized possession. The tight, emerald green dress, a recent acquisition, hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her full breasts and the swell of her hips. She turned, admiring the way the fabric draped over her figure, a predatory smile playing on her lips. Her assets were far superior to Hazel's; she was a predator, a woman who knew how to use her allure as a weapon.
