I am here, but am I really? My long, thick, glossy raven locks with dark green undertones hang freely from my head, a few curly strands fall in front of my oval face. My bright cherry-red eyes stare through you or perhaps they stare at nothing, my pupils are nowhere to be seen. My black stained lips cracked a little, my two sharp pointy fangs press against my lower lip about to puncture through. My long, slender neck is covered by a number of necklaces and chokers, hiding the various puncture marks from past nights of lust and ecstacy, and to show off my accumilated wealth. As for my clothing, it hides very little and reveals plenty. My white shirt, tied in a knot at the bottom instead of buttoned up lets more air pass by my clevage. My black skirt is certainly up to regulation standards: it would be too short for my slip, if I ever wore one. The skirt hangs just long enough to cover my thong panties, but when I bend over, it doesn't really matter. My knee-high white stockings compliement my little ensomble and also my long legs. Lastly, my heeled dress shoes cover my dainty feet. Here my body stands before you. This beauty, if dressed differently, could pass for being an Egyptian emperess, or an Amazoness warrior, or a Cherroke princess. But, am I who I seem to be? Is anyone home in this heap of carrion in front of you? I may be, or I just might be paying you a visit. Perhaps that is why you are feeling a tad faint, a tad drowsy, like you are floating. It might also be the reason you're pondering the possibilities of us together on the bear rug in my inner sanctum, hundreds of candles surround our lovemaking. But, are you thinking that way? Confused, aren't you. Perhaps you should stop reading then, because if you are uncertain about things now, then when you finish reading my most darkest thoughts, memories...fantasies, you might be permentally damaged.
Or maybe not. I am not you, so I would not know what you're expecting to find.
Em peh nety en peh-enef.