.7

She was an animal.

From the bedroom door from where he stood with the journal, he could see her lower torso, pelvis and the tops of her thighs.

Despite that pill, (the half-empty pack was still on the shelf over the sink next to her wet toothbrush. She must have just brushed her teeth before tying her wrist). She could be impregnated.

He smelled her when he entered the room. Like compost. There was a biology about her. The way she had carefully left herself.

A supreme performance:

After brushing her teeth and before tying the towel, she had stripped and left on one article of clothing (if one did not count shoes and jewelry)—her underwear. White elastic grabbing her thighs and abdomen. Transparent (that was a nice touch)—her pubic hair (delta) cascading down and over her vulva under a soft screen of pink. On the elastic waist was the final touch, a rosebud.

She was a genius.