by Chrissy Linn

Created on: May 06, 2008

Noelle gazed at her reflection, practicing alluring smiles and flirty pouts, for ten minutes before applying her makeup. Intermittently she would get the urge to strike a pose or make kissing faces at the mirror.
"Life is awesome," she thought, with the cheap hope that she could stay this pretty forever. At the healthy age of nineteen, everything about Noelle was of highest quality that only Mother Nature could produce: her blue eyes were bright, her tawny hair gleamed with blond streaks striated throughout, and she'd been granted an exemplary nose at birth. She was fit and conditioned to conform to her clothes. In fact, not a day went by during the summertime that she would refuse to show any part of her sun-kissed body.

Upon strutting out of the bathroom door, groomed to perfection and dressed to the nines, she gave her mirror a wink. She often did this as a form of good-luck; in love, in life, and especially, in sex. With each wink that she gave herself, she was reminded that she was capable and deserving.

The phone rang and she waited until the fourth ring to pick up. "Always keep a man waiting," was one of her many mottoes.

Jesse, Noelle's date for the evening, spoke on the other side of the receiver.
"I'm almost at your place, baby-doll. Gimme two minutes. Alright?"

"Sure, cutie." She almost gagged at her using such a compliment on anyone but herself. "Take your time." She hung up. Jesse wasn't the best man she could be with, but he was good-looking nonetheless and had a very exclusive job; which, to her, meant a very fulfilled bank account.

Before Jesse would come speeding up the street of her residence in his Corvette, blasting his annoying music, Noelle got out her mail key to check if she got anything besides bills, bills, bills. In her black leather four-inch heels, she swaggered across the street to the mail-boxes.
She was disappointed to find nothing but advertisements and "Have You Seen Me?" cards in her box. Peeking at the weekend sales from her grocery store's ad, she stumbled over a pebble that was laying casually on the road and plunged clumsily to the pavement. Her mail flew out of her hands and scattered all around her. She was left clutching her pained ankles and almost sobbing of embarrassment. Of course her wellbeing came first, but how horrid would it have been if a neighbor saw her, flailing her arms around, hitting the ground because she couldn't walk in her shoes?
She picked herself up and pretended nothing had happened. She didn't want to

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