She entered the room, care-free and blissful, like a youthful girl. As all eyes fell upon her, she flashed them a mischievous, but playful smile.
A graceful gait was hers and golden yarn flowed down her shoulders. Her hair was wavy as the waves of Tobago. She had a face which reflected the warmth of a woman, pure and devout. Pale as tissue paper, her face was bedecked with freckles, like a young child. Green eyes gazed, casting a hypnotic spell upon her onlookers. She had a body encased in a gauzelike white, snow-white skin, and her skin was smooth and clean, like a baby seal. Her bosom seemed tender as two fawns. Firm and sturdy, she had a strong build, the picture of health, but a petite and sweet body. When she spoke, the words flowed from her ruby-red lips, like milk and honey; a high-pitched, girlish voice, soothing and reassuring.
Clad in a silken skirt, high-rising socks, and sneakers, she bore an athletic resemblance. Her figure exemplified further embellishment with a sapphire-colored shirt. Truly, she was a femme, in character, and her name was Penelope.