“I
should show you my graveyard of broken brushes,” she drawls dryly. She had a
designated space for them actually. She hadn’t meant to at first, but it happened. And for some reason, the pile never
leaves no matter how many times she cleans it. “Unless you have a stainless
steel brush with wide bristles, I don’t think there’s anything that could tame
this hair.” She doesn’t care for the lack of space, oddly enough. The woman’s
movements are rather easy to read.
She
tries to resist giving the woman a once over, her eyes following the tracing
fingers along a protruding collar bone. Her eyes tend to rest on places where
the male gaze usually would—for the same reasons as well. And Sayuri rips her
silvery hues from the usual resting places to the woman’s face. It’s not that
she’s ashamed as to where her gaze
usually leads, it’s more for respect
of the other party. She has no doubt the woman’s noticed. Sayuri doesn’t bring
it up though. She’ll hear about it soon enough.
IT WASwhat RAGYO KIRYUIN had wanted; the drawn eye, dragging itself uncontrolled over the BEAUTY of her form. She does not move the hand over her collarbone except to move DOWN, grazing the palm gently over BREAST and HIP. There was power in this. Power in ensuring that all the ATTENTION of the other woman was most solely, most assuredly, onto her form and HERS alone. RAGYO KIRYUIN could control where the eye SET ITSELF. Could control what was seen and what was not seen, all through the BRUSQUE motion of a finely manicured and beautiful hand.
“You have such WANDERING eyes,” RAGYO KIRYUIN muses aloud, purple lips CURLING into a closed, DANGEROUS smile. “No self-control in these matters at all. As WILD as your hair. Maybe you ought to ENTRUST that to me. I could WHIP your hair into SUBMISSION for you.”
