Anything Goes

"…In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked upon as something shocking. Now Heaven Knows! Anything goes…" - Cole Porter The head stared at itself in the mirror. Late afternoon shadows danced across the smeared makeup covering the once beautiful features. Donna had been watching the head for some time, but it was only in this moment that she wondered if she hadn't applied a bit too much rouge to her mother's face. She stepped away in order to view her handiwork from a better perspective. No, everything was just fine. The thought made her smile.

Donna turned away from the head when she noticed the blood that had splattered and dried across her arms, jeans and tee shirt. Oddly, she hadn't been aware of it before. She hurried towards the small adjoining bathroom, almost knocking over a dish of half-eaten food lying on the edge of her mother's vanity table, beside the head. She needed to start over and be fresh and clean for Alan. She showered and changed into a white satin slip, throwing the stained clothes into the gilded hamper.

She returned to the bedroom. Peering into the same mirror as the head amused her. Blood still dripped onto the vanity's beveled glass top. She picked up the ivory-handled brush and began to stroke her long, lustrous black hair. The bristles against her scalp made her feel all tingly inside, just like Alan did whenever he touched her in her secret places. A smile came to her lips with her next thought. She would pile her long hair up on top of her head so that Alan could take it down, pin by pin, until it fell free across her naked shoulders.