Just...look at that. The sheer paneling, the beadwork - subtle but dazzling. It whispers refinement. Understated. Elegant.
Her nipples pressing against the fabric with perfect restraint. Not vulgar. Not accidental. Designed. Controlled. Most women - sloppy, asymmetrical, grotesque. But Maggie...Maggie is flawless. The tone, the symmetry - like the watermark on Paul Allen's card. The rare detail only a connoisseur appreciates.
Her areolae, too. Soft, dusky rose. Not too dark. Not too pale. Harmonized with her complexion like Pantone matching. Impossible balance. Perfection incarnate. She doesn't just wear the dress - she transcends it.
How can she exist in this city, in this world, with such impossible perfection, while the rest of us wallow in mediocrity?!
But then...she changed it.
Gold. Yes...it's bold. Regal. Less crystalline, more...fluid. A shift from precision to empire. There's elegance in that. The transparency - suggestive, not garish. It still whispers sophistication.
But...the fit. It's looser. Less deliberate. It doesn't frame her with the same restraint. It...drapes. Imperfectly. That's disappointing. It blurs what was once sharp, controlled. Almost careless.
No, it's still magnificent. It's gold, it's timeless. Her eyes - steady, alive. The aura is intact. She's still extraordinary.
But her hair...longer now. Dyed blonde. Softer. Radiant. Golden - it complements the dress, yes. A deliberate match. I suppose that's refinement.
But...before, it was darker. Severe. Precise. It carved her face like a sculpture. Uncompromising. Now it's softened, warmer, almost careless. A different woman entirely.
She was perfect then. Flawless. And now, she's changed. Why change? Why introduce error into divinity?
She's still extraordinary. Still beyond them all. But this...this isn't the Maggie I saw at the gala. This is a...deviation.
But why change? Why step down from perfection? Why expose imperfection when you've already achieved divinity?
WHY COULDN'T SHE STAY PERFECT?!