In the middle of a long, boring training, Justin, a low level employee was stuck in a Zoom instructor-led training. He attempted to be as engaged as he could be, but as he repeatedly told them, "Hey, this doesn't work for me." As a familiar buzzing hit his phone, he saw his favorite face on earth. One time she unlocked his phone while he was sleeping and made a silly face and put it as her profile pic. He had a million better pictures of her; that was somehow his favorite.
She had so many personas. She was the morose, morbid gothic queen. She was also a vibrant, shiny ray of sunshine. She was the beach girl, the astronomy geek, the groupie, the tv devotee. She had a million different layers, and he loved every single one.
Stella had trained him not to do a Marlon Brando yell of her name finally. He was a sweet guy who took very good care of her. She loved his eyes, his wit, and the beard. He had a full mane of fiery red hair at 45 still, even if the red beard was losing the battle to the white, which she liked even more honestly. To match his exotic hair color, he had piercing blue eyes, which he constantly reminded her only.18% of the world's population could make this boast.
It was almost unfair that such a couple had such beautiful eyes among them. As his were a deep blue like the sky, so were hers like the deepest ocean, the most crystal seas. The most expensive beaches, the seas that the rich and famous exploit, the luxurious excesses of the wealthy elites... those beaches. These instilled the same passion. A luxurious spectacle for all who would dare tread. As a couple, they had no equal.
As in real life, Stella, a switch in every iteration, had many moods. Sometimes it was sweet lover. Sometimes it was his own personal porn star. Although at times frustrating, it was definitely always an adventure. There is nowhere else on earth he would rather be than next to her. Today's mood was "Chaos Gremlin."
"My boyfriend is in a very, very boring training today. How can I best help him?" she thought. So she played around with the lights, finding the right hue to go along with the mood. She decided on red. The Police's "Roxanne," TLC's "Red Light Special," Red Light Districts. It is a sensual color for much of history for a reason. She threw on some dark lingerie, the fancy ones. She put her camera on the tripod, the one they used to satiate their inner exhibitionists. She turned on her phone and began her own personal photo shoot. Surprisingly exhausting, she filtered through the pictures to find her three favorite. Feeling accomplished, she sent them.
He saw the notifications from the familiar face in his phone. He paused for a moment and saw that she had sent pictures. With Stella, he had no idea what he was never going to receive. It might be a half-eaten cereal in a bowl. It might be a picture of a raccoon she thought was fun. It could be funny or steamy or spicy in the meme department or, every once in a while, she would send a picture of her face.
He checked the picture. Almost immediately, he looked around, paranoid, the epitome of "hand in the cookie jar." Once he felt it was safe, he turned the phone back on, and he looked at the pictures. Her breasts were impeccable. He would have no finer pair he would ever see in his life, nor had any he had seen him to this point compare. Her hips were delightfully thick. She was hourglass-shaped and he loved that about her. Not to mention, her ass was a sacred, beautiful place. The magazine cover will always photoshop out what his favorite parts are about her.
Delightfully nervous, she doom-scrolled through her phone wanting to see the next reaction. Sure enough within a few minutes her phone buzzed and he said, "You look absolutely amazing."
