There are many women in this world of ours; and many to be loved by men and other women alike. But, my kind of woman, she's out of this world. She's so surreal, that sometimes I forget that she exists. The mere thought of her makes me giggle in excitement. Thinking about her now is sending shivers all over my body. She's just – she's ungodly. Sophisticated. Immensely beautiful. Something beyond my wildest dreams. Somebody that could bring my world crashing down with the bat of any eyelid.

The control that she had over made me blush, as she's a lot more dominant than me. She does what she wants, whenever she wants, however she wants. There's nothing that she wouldn't do to stay on top.

When I think about her, my mind instantly wanders to her clothes. She always wears a pair of ripped fishnets under an old black dress. It was a hand-me-down from her mother, whom she loved dearly. She always spoke fondly of her mother to me, she was a very important woman in her life. The cuffs of the old dress are always half-way up her arm, having washed it so many times. She usually crams her feet into a pair of scuffed heels; she always falls over, she's clumsy. But, I guess that that's what I like about her. She's different from all of the other girls, especially the ones that have been trained to wear those dainty shoes since birth. Around her neck is a thick pearl necklace, it's nothing too expensive, just a little gift from me to her. She wears them with pride, every time I see her, they make her feel more unique. From her small ears, hang two pear earrings, heavy enough to look like they're weighing her head down. I like to joke with her that they are the only things keeping her weighed down, keeping her from flying away and leaving me here all alone.

She doesn't hesitate to wear makeup. I suppose that that's another thing that I enjoy about her. She spends a lot of time on it, making sure that it's perfect before she sets out on her day. Thinking about it makes me sigh and shake my head, she's a handful. It's always the same colours. Smokey-grey eyeshadow that she applies carelessly, to her, it looks like a work of art. Black mascara; her eyelashes are short. To finish her artistic look, she paints her lips with bright red lipstick. She doesn't do it neatly, as she is never really seen wearing it.

Her real hair colour is a short, grey-blonde that feels too dull for her. She covers it with a short, bleached-blonde wig, the fringe parting perfectly to frame her face.

She is very proud of her look, it sets her apart from the rest of the girls, and I agree that it makes her look completely irresistible. Looking at other girls, then looking at her, I would find myself laughing. To me, they were plain, completely and utterly boring. But her, she – she just was everything that I could ever have wanted.

I didn't know what I would do without her in my life. She was the one and only lynchpin in my life, holding the broken and damaged shards of myself together. Without her, I would be an empty shell, settling down with a regular 'Plain-Jane', fathering two children that I didn't entirely want. That dead-end future was something that I had always feared until meeting her, she had brought a comfortable liberation to my grey life. She could make a joke out of any situation, and everybody would laugh. On top of that, whenever we brought up children, she would laugh with me, forcing me to vow to never let the two of us bring a child into our world.

When I think about her, my heart sings, and all of the clouds disappear from the blue skies.

When I put on the fishnets, and my mother's old dinner dress, and those heels that I had taken from her room as a child, she liberates me. When I drag the eyeshadow across my smooth eyelids, and brush the mascara onto my short eyelashes, dragging the old red lipstick across my lips, I smile brightly.

I look into her eyes, and I say, "You, are my kind of woman." I place her lipstick down next to her soft hand, dragging my fingers across the back of her hands. I lift her head up, and look into those striking blue eyes, "My, oh my, what a girl."

THE END
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Song Of The Chapter- My Kind Of Woman by Mac Demarco

Just a short one for you this time ladies and gents, I've been rather busy as of late. This one is indeed inspired by the Mac Demarco song and the music video, with bits of my own input smushed right in there for funsies <3

Don't forget to comment and vote and such, and also check out my other stories plz boys <3

Also enjoy the picture of my idol Mac dressed in a bodysuit woo, don't say I don't treat you all