Such smooth perfection, traced by a blade with such powerful connotations. Her reason for the stripping of hair makes her shudder, providing her with gooseflesh that causes her to nick the skin so lightly near the ankle.
She delights in the warm water as she lightly scratches over her calf with the blade. Drying off she steps from the shower, collects her things and looks at her hairless self in the mirror.
Tonight, she knows there is a reason she shaved...She pulls on a tank top and fishes for her purple flannel pants. Throwing those aside, why deny the smoothness? She skips the lower covering and climbs into bed...you can't sleep in pants when your legs are freshly shaven.

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