He watched her pin up her hair. A twist, spiral and poof, it was done. Nothing more than that, but they way she could just do a few minor movements and have such an elegant look upon her head was spectacular in his mind. She would grab a couple hairpins, prying them open in a flash with her sharp, white teeth, then jam them into the twist.
Then would come that moment when her arms would be raised up, that curve of her neck, a few loose wisps of hair along the hairline and his mouth would go dry. That superb bit of her femininity was what made her so unique and special to him. It was the ritual. It was her.
I love this picture. It is superb to me. I love the femininity of the whole thing and it’s just so cool.