CANDICE

THE FELINE

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Tip - tap. Tip - tap. Light strokes in a quick beat. Ultra high and glass-glossy heels like the New York skyscrapers during a zesty summer. Gracefully tapping as if stepping on men’s hearts instead of the dusty streets. Legs - smooth, fine, infinitely long. The kind that you wish to pick up along with the shoes and keep them sweating in your hands all night. The finale – a perfectly round booty wrapped in a tight patent skirt like a toy drum. Hair: sun –blondish, pulled backwards with firm hairpins. Slightly loose forelock falling on the side, pridefully hiding the eye under. Gosh, that look was devilish hot. 

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“Hey, pussycat! Will pop those buttons off!" you could hear. A few car horns would follow. A naughty smile on her end. The boys went crazy. The girls were jealous. The clubs in Miami adored her.

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The truth was Candice wasn’t a pussycat, but a sleek feline. The sleekest in town. Young and …let’s say playful, she made men gently purr in her endless legs. She wasn’t hiding how much she loved those nights – dark, short and naughty. No surprise – she hated being chased on the mornings after. And rightly so – this body was simply made for lovin.