Fearless beauty overlooks the lights of the city. Black hair flowing over black satin bestows upon her the mysterious darkness of a raven. She is vampiric in nature — sleeping all day then at night awakening. There was a time when she held back, showing mercy; now, she slays in heels, conquering all that she can see, flawlessly. No, she will not fucking suffer in silence quietly. She has many lovers, not fucking them all separately, necessarily. She drinks an amaretto sour and smokes a cigarette at an ultra exclusive event. She stalks the secret places where lascivious noises are heard from people fucking with masked faces. If she wants you to know her, you will know her. If not, she will remain nameless and faceless with no traces. The night calls her, and she answers with a whisper. A tempest fast approaches. She is lightning. She is thunder.