The bathroom was warm, the mirror fogged with anticipation. Nicoletta stood before it, a woman with generous curves and even more generous hair. A thick, dark mane flowed down her pubic hair, curling gently at her waist. Her legs, strong and sturdy, were covered in soft down that caught the light.
She began her ritual, unbuttoning her blouse with deliberate slowness. She looked at her reflection, not with self-criticism, but with quiet appreciation. This was her body, her temple. Her hair, often a source of shame for women, was for Nicoletta a source of pride, a symbol of her untamed nature.
Taking a comb, she began to untangle her hair, the rhythmic strokes calming her mind. She hummed a tuneless tune, her voice low and hoarse. The scent of lavender filled the air as she gathered her hair atop her head, securing it with a clip.
Then she turned her attention to the shower. The water hissed as it poured from the showerhead, quickly turning to steam that clung to the tiles. Nico
