The woman is half naked, watching you while smokes with a genuine posture of superiority, as though she held all the cards and knew every secret of yours.
She shows her breasts... an uninhibited dominatrix, establishing primacy with her eyes. Is she perhaps high born?
Her eyes exude a pretense of dominance, establishing her supremacy in the night’s stillness. You don’t know her name, and yet the mistress seemed to possess an intimate knowledge of you, as though she had delved into the depths of your soul and uncovered all your hidden truths. You are left with a sense of unease, as the woman’s piercing stare lingers in the darkness, leaving you to wonder what secrets she holds and what mysteries she may unravel.
“Night night,” she whispers softly, lighting her cigarette, staring directly at you. No matter that her breasts are on display. You can not deny her dominance. Are you under her spell? She stares again, briefly disturbing your sightless gaze.
It’s the witching hour, when the moon is high and the wolves prowl.
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