She Is Beautiful

A fresh, warm summer breeze swept along the street in front of the bar’s glass facade, teasing the golden strands of her hair, as if the very air wanted to touch her. Sunlight played across her soft, perfectly tanned skin. A snow-white top clung to her sculpted figure, seductively outlining her perky, high breasts — the thin fabric barely concealing the curves underneath, promising more than it allowed to see. She stood in the wind like a goddess who had descended to earth, her plump lips slightly parted, gazing off into the distance with dazzling blue eyes, as if thinking about the most beautiful thing in the world.

The screech of brakes from a red Ferrari — where the hell did it even come from in this backwater? — didn’t even pull her out of her beautiful thoughts. She stood there in the breeze like a strange dream a sober mind couldn’t believe.

A tanned, muscular man leapt out of the car. Confident like a lion, he moved like he owned every inch of ground beneath his sneakers. His tank top stretched over his chest, his jeans fit tight, and he walked with that special kind of confidence that doesn’t take no for an answer. His eyes instantly locked onto her — her shining curls, the soft, teasing fabric of her top barely hiding the delicate roundness of her firm tits.

He seemed to forget who he was, where he was, or why he existed. His legs carried him to her on their own — across the sidewalk, the asphalt, through the air thick with her scent. He wasn’t thinking about anything — just how to start talking to this vision, so he could never let her go again.

He stopped beside her, dropped to one knee, and said loudly and confidently:

– Baby, I don’t know who you are, but I’m ready to give you everything I’ve got. You are pure perfection — be my goddess!

She slowly turned her head toward him, her dazzling blue eyes widening in surprise for a moment. Then, resting on this knight’s face for barely a heartbeat, they narrowed slightly, like the gentlest creature on earth. The sunlight danced in her loose curls, the white top clung even tighter to the tempting curves of her breasts, making the guy almost choke on his admiration.

Her plump lips stretched into a lazy half-smile, and from her lovely mouth came:

– Hey, clown, get your fat ass off the pavement before I smash your damn face in!

The guy flinched, not believing his ears. He was still on one knee, looking up at this angelic creature who now spoke in the voice of a pissed-off trucker after three sleepless days. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. After a week without sleep, after searching the city for her, he had finally found her — and this is what she said? This? His dream, his ideal, his cover-girl angel turned out to be a foul-mouthed bitch with a voice that could crack asphalt?

He looked at her again: the girl moved away gracefully, her step light and almost feline. Her hips swayed slowly beneath loose blue jeans, and the thin fabric of her white top fluttered in the wind, as if mocking every attempt not to notice how clearly the firm, round shapes showed through it.

‘Fucking great… Just stepped out of the damn bar — and already a circus,’ she thought grimly, pushing open the bar door with her thin but surprisingly strong fingers.

The cold air inside hit her heated skin, making the thin fabric of her top cling even more tightly to her breasts, bringing a faint shiver to her nipples. Charlie slouched slightly, trying to discreetly adjust the top so she wouldn’t look like a total street slut, but it was pointless — her damn body seemed to go out of its way to put everything on display that could drive men crazy.

At a table in the far corner, grinning like three demons from a cheap sitcom, sat Buddy, Larry, and Steve. Each with a beer, each with a wide-ass grin on his face. They knew. They always knew when her “beautiful week” started.

– Oooh, now that’s a goddess walking in! – Steve shouted the moment she crossed the threshold.

– Pure tenderness! – added Buddy, raising his mug in her honor.

Charlie — who had stepped out for a smoke still in his usual form, a tough, wiry guy around fifty with a weathered face, short stubble, and the heavy, grim look of an old drunk — twisted his lips into a scowl.

‘If only you bastards could each get stuck in one of these bodies,’ she snapped inwardly, moving with all the grace and femininity a woman could possibly possess — and not just any woman, but the very embodiment of grace itself. And only these three, not counting Charlie’s family, knew the truth. That once, a gruff old man with a heavy temper had become the victim of a strange curse, accidentally cast by his own daughter. She had wanted to become the most beautiful girl in the world — said the foolish wish out loud while holding that damned porcelain doll. And Charlie, bursting into the room with his usual shouting and cursing, had ended up becoming that beauty — but only halfway, because the curse had twisted the wording. Now, every week, he changed: sometimes he was himself again, gruff and rough, and other times he turned into an unspeakably gorgeous young woman, one look at whom was enough to make any man lose his mind. And nothing could be done about it. No pleading, no prayers ever lifted the curse. It had been like this for two years now.

She walked to the table, each step slicing through space around her: men who had no idea who she really was turned to stare, waiters tripped over themselves, and one old guy at the bar dropped his shot glass and just sat there, mouth hanging open. Nothing new, really.

And then, the same tanned hunk in jeans and a tank top burst into the bar, shaking like a teenage boy:

– Listen! I’m serious! Anything you want! Money, cars, islands! Just tell me what you want — I’ll do it! – the guy croaked, nearly collapsing at her feet, trembling all over from the overwhelming mix of lust and desperation.

Charlie looked at him — a sultry, lazy gaze, lashes slightly narrowed, as if she were actually considering it. Her breasts rose heavily under the white top with each impatient breath, nearly spilling out.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. The jeans stretched snug over her hips, and golden hair tumbled over her shoulders. Every gesture she made was unintentionally elegant and inviting. It was like nature itself had surrendered to her beauty.

Everyone in the bar froze. Even her old friends, used to scenes like this, went quiet as they watched her lazily pick up a glass and take a dainty, ladylike sip, leaving a lipstick print on the rim with her plump lips.

She slowly lowered the glass, licked her lips in one quick, sensual motion — and then let out, in a hoarse, smoker’s voice:

– You fucking stupid, princess? Shove your islands up your ass and get the fuck outta here before I ram them down your throat!

The bar fell into dead silence.

The guy stood there frozen, like a statue, with a stack of cash in one hand and a ring in the other. His eyes darted across her perfect face, her luscious curves, her smoldering figure in the tight top — and he just couldn’t understand how this was possible. How could something this perfect be such a fucking monster?

Charlie sighed heavily, once again feeling the waistband of her jeans rubbing against the tender skin of her waist, the pressure of the top squeezing her heavy tits, barely concealing her stiffened nipples.

‘Fucking hell. How long is this shit gonna go on…’ she thought wearily, once more feeling how this female body lived a life of its own — tempting, seducing, pulling them in.

The man backed away, but couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not even after the humiliation. Not even with his pride drenched in cold water. He was still ready to do anything just to be near her.

Charlie gave him one last, scornful look, then slowly brought the glass back to her lips and took a long, lazy sip before rising from the table. Her top stretched to its limit over her high, full breasts, while her jeans hugged her rounded hips, emphasizing every curve of her graceful figure.

She tossed over her shoulder to her friends:

– I’m going the fuck home. Screw this fucking party.

And, with a graceful sway of her hips, she headed for the door, leaving behind a trail of perfume, desire, and pure, icy contempt.