Facial features of unblemished porcelain seem to suddenly inflame with restored interest and impish malice as soon as his utterance descends ‘pon her ears, thus immediately painting the expanse of her tiers with a wide and simpering grin. Oh, if only her BEAUTIFUL TAILS of alabaster chiffon weren’t currently concealed from sight, they would be now wagging with such glee ! And yet, the smile of a FOX is never a good sign, for it usually precedes ache, disaster, the breaking of one’s poignant heart. A fleeting glimpse of sharp fangs is generously offered as the woman-beast further closes the distance between her and her interlocutor with consciously slow steps, as if giving him the necessary time to ponder on his next action ─ A lucky man is he, for no murderous intentions are presently harbored within her ( cursed, rotten ) bloodied organ.
❝ My, oh my ! Who would have ever thought that such a heart-warming compliment would have left your tongue ? If I didn’t know anything better, I’d think that you want something from me. ❞ Deceitfully saccharine is the lilt of her voice, as faux as the the LOW PURRS thundering across her breastbone.