Paean

She’s a professional. She’s in marketing. She’s not in a sophisticated or well paid corner of marketing: in those corners, people are smooth, fashionably dressed, smart, and hot. She’s in a more… quotidian… corner. She’s not marketing financial products, or pharmaceutical products. Maybe she’s selling to dentists’ offices. Or to office administrators.

Her smile is bright. She likes what she’s doing. She knows she’s hot to many, but she has the realistic awareness that she’s not objectively, indisputably hot to all. Her eyes, hazel, are big. Her cheekbones are high. Her teeth, just a little too big, just a little crooked. She wears an elegant watch, a little mismatched to the rest of her outfit – linen pants that hug her slightly big, but unquestionably delicious, ass, that are strained just a little by her muscular thighs. A linen tank top, accoutred with a patterned silk scarf. Espadrilles.

I haven’t heard her speak, but from the way she chews her gum – mouth open, from the way she’s dressed, from the way she carries herself, I imagine she’ll speak with a pronounced Long Island accent.

I’m not wrong.

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