"I don't know how to hold this, but I look good"

No one could deny her beauty; her raven hair danced in the breeze; her emerald eyes locked on the man who observed her. She felt a surge of power and allure in her bespoke leather jacket, her souvenir from a lover in Italy. Yet her weapon was alien to her, and despite her efforts she could never embrace violence, for she was a mistress of love, her real weapon.