In less than 200 words, describe a physically beautiful or ugly woman or a physically handsome or ugly man via prose or poetry. You first I'll follow.
She was pure sex, from painted toenails to highlighted hair implants. She barely stood five foot five, high heels included, making her tilt her head to look at me with big Bambi eyes sheltered by thick fake eyelashes and tiny drawn on eyebrows. Her powdered nose was perfectly inconspicuous, it had no eye catching character that might distract from the important things, like her lips, painted hooker pink, perfectly shaped and begging for attention. She dressed the stereotype of a down and out middle aged whore, but on her nineteen year old body, still fresh with natural beauty and health, it was perfect.
The scent of fresh cut grass and leather was the first thing I noticed. I looked up from the game into bright green eyes and a shit-eating grin that I couldn't help but return. Dark hair falling over one eyebrow, a jagged scar over the other that I found myself wanting to touch. Too soothe the long forgotten hurt. Average height, average build, but I knew there would be nothing average about this man as surely as I knew the Sox would lose this game as well.
A young man with long, brownish black hair with just the hint of curl at the tips, framing almond eyes that seemed to hold not only wisdom beyond his years, but peace, total and utter peace. They were the kind of eyes that laughed with their owner, and darkened with worry or anger. Tall for his age, but well muscled, with a long fine neck and a slender nose filled out his face. A sight to behold by anyone’s standards. Good at nearly all sports he had an inclination to try. His reflexes unsurpassable, but it was his leadership that stood out. Always the perfectly polite sportsman. With never a hint of an ego, he was the one who would stop mid race to help someone fallen. This was both his point of pride as well as his curse; This is Nitesh. Nitesh sat by the tree weaving a basket in the late morning sun. The light glittered off his perfect milk chocolate skin, his dark eyes lazily scanning the fields where his cows were grazing...
Oh, I actually want to improve on this. But here goes. On the flame covered throne sat the most handsome boy Jordan had ever seen. Golden hair, illuminated like a halo, framed his porcelain, chiseled face. Delicate jade green eyes twinkled like precious stones, hidden beneath thick luxurious lashes. The light stubble gracing his milk white chin, did nothing to detract from his elegance and beauty. He flashed a grin, showing a set of pearl white teeth that glistened in the sunlight seeping through the red curtains above.
198 words He was the most awkward person she’d ever encountered. The Janitor was a slim five-foot-nine with fiery red-orange hair he kept plastered to his skull in a side-part with neatly trimmed ends. Though he seemed evenly proportioned in height and size, it didn’t stop him from walking with a hunched shouldered sway, as if his shoulders were too heavy and his legs too long. His skin was a sickly shade of pale yellow covered in all sizes of dark red freckles, and he was always wiping his brow, giving it an agitated red hue. Pale blue eyes fringed with pale orange lashes blinked out from behind thick coke bottle bottom glasses giving him an owlish expression. “Done with the bathroom, Ma’am?” He asked. Oh dear. Even his voice was awkward; softly shy yet oddly gravely, cracking at the end of each word. She noticed his hands, thick fingered with cracked and reddened knuckles clutch the mop handle he leaned on. He reminded her of the office nerd the Comedian, Dane Cook, talked about. You know, the one you give candy to, in hopes of being spared if he one day happens to go postal… He just seemed… Off.
She stood in the fading light her hourglass silhouette driving him mad. She looked at him with silver eyes that he adored her blond hair in a pony tail. “Come on.” She said panting lightly. The rise of her breasts as she inhaled captivating his attention. Her long legs kicking up sand as she resumed her run, he lagged behind a bit admiring her rear end in the bikini bottoms she wore. He longed for a respite. Thirty minuets later she halted collapsing on the sand, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He sat beside her, inhaling her scent he groaned, her oiled skin smelled of coconut. He felt his restraint slipping nearly as fast as the darkness crept in. Cupping her heart shaped face he leaned in closer. Three over.
