“Verdana was an epoch of sex and beauty. She knew this and savored her power. Her small firm rump squeezed tight into a black mini skirt. Her blouse was a vibrant blue of silk with large loose chest ruffles, her hair blue-black and tightly bound into an immaculate bun. Verdana’s lips were a wet hue of “scream”, a devilishly red lipstick, which was her favorite, coated with a thin layer of lip gloss to give that “I’m wet for you” look. Verdana’s patent leather pumps caught glimmers of the afternoon sunlight. She was one of the few women who dared be sexual in an age of rigid female prudence. Women would give her disproving glares as she bent over to retrieve a strategically dropped notebook or pen when she brought anything with her at all that was. She often liked to walk the streets unburdened by accessories. It forced her to find other more creative ways of getting what she wanted besides a credit card. Today was such a day. It was more than one man who, distracted, would nearly be hit by the jungle traffic of New York. She loved this city.”
