Smeared with all the gleams noted to a woman in the heat of exercise, here is when we view the notion by which is the very flame of movement. Madeline beholds of her features the smile formed as a crevice of two parted red lips. Lips that move for the way of feminine laughter, charming and alluring in sound.
Madeline displays in her eyes the need to share her energy. It is full of life and full of error. That is the way of life. To commit the sin, and then to sigh for the disappointment of what had been sacrificed to commit it.
Her face is the color of porcelain, with cheeks that harmonize in vermillion-coloring. Those cheeks appear edible to enjoy for consumption, should kisses be shared for each of them. Her lips are also for kissing; replenished as they are, with each repeated smile. A dash of newness to the previous dullness.
Her neck glows in all its milky presence, swollen in the veins that run upwards to a brain that demands to be prodded.
Her nose is that which takes in the scent of herself: one that is the feminine scent so attractive when she is fertile. Of a body that at once holds no color, save for the presence of rose-colored blush that highlights her bosom, beneath the collarbone.
Madeline’s breasts were made also for consumption under either golden sun or silver moon; they gleam at all sides like a piece of pottery freshly made from the wheel. Her shoulders are rounded as the curves of the earth, and they are drenched with the dew in this newly-fallen morning. Madeline’s abdomen is for the reaching hand. How’d not anyone yearn to sink their fingers into this softness akin to molten marble? Or like the snow that has fallen upon the grass in the back of a home? To descend further in the description of the body to the hips. They lash outwards in the picture of fertility. And the sight of the legs is akin to the sight of two pillars that raise a palace on their edges.
The man above her is a man who has now made a virgin into a woman.
And yet, he had filled himself with the remorse of such an action. Egotism is not within himself. He has flooded his heart with this guilt, for it to be replaced by words of reassurance from Madeline. His name is Mateo Mathis.