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Description
Here's my biker chick, again. I'm starting to like her, maybe I'll draw her more often. A story popped into my head as I was drawing this; it was about the time when I started adding in the rain. Pen isn't the best medium for rain, maybe, and I think that if you didn't know it was rain, you wouldn't think it was rain. I've added this little story in below, for anyone who wants to read it. And yes, that girl's name *is* Cecily XD.

I think I had more fun doing the one with the bike, but I like this one just as much. Oh, and if anyone can tell me how to put italics, underlines, and bold in the description, I'll be very very grateful

UNDER THE RAIN.
Cecily ducked into an alley and sank, gasping for breath, against one rough wall. The rain pattered down, soaking her tattered dress and plastering the luxurious fabric against her body. She might have revelled in the sensual sensation of the silk clinging to her form if she weren’t being chased by a knife-wielding murderer at that very moment.

She damned her worthless boyfriend to hell and back. He just had to run off with the first slut he saw, leaving her stranded in a bad neighbourhood with no way of getting back other than her own two feet. And what happens to young, well-dressed girls on dark, rainy nights in bad neighbourhoods? You sure know how to pick them, Cecily, she thought with despair.

The rain had slackened in the last few hours, but it had been torrential earlier in the night – the heaviest she’d ever seen it. Cecily had discarded her shoes a few hundred metres earlier; the standing rainwater lapped at her ankles. The drains at the sides of the roads were overfilled, and water belched from the rain gutters that lined the roofs and windowsills of these rows of seedy, run-down buildings. There was water sloshing, splashing, falling, cascading, being torn apart by wheels… and Cecily couldn’t hear anything else. She had no way of knowing whether or not she’d lost her shadowy pursuer.

That particular question was answered when a shadow appeared at the mouth of the alley at high speed, dropping to a felid crouch. A flattened arrow of white appeared within upon the shadow’s face. It was smiling. Cecily’s heart beat a frenzied tattoo against her sternum, her mouth went dry, and she gave a soundless exhalation of terror. Her feet carried her backwards until her back bumped impotently against the alley’s back wall.

The shadow straightened, and Cecily could make out the outline of a baggy leather jacket, fitted jeans and heavy leather boots. Black hair hung down over one side of the shadow’s face, and distant, muted streetlights picked out a proudly bridged nose, a soft brow, a sharp cheekbone – and that damnable, demonic smile. Cecily’s feet pawed against the ground, uselessly pushing her against the wall. The shadowed form stalked forward, gracefully… maliciously.

It stepped into the circle of yellow provided by a dim light fixture above Cecily and to her right, mounted low on the alley wall. Hands were revealed, clad in leather half-gloves; fingers long and tapered, with black-varnished fingernails. Gleaming buckles were picked out on the boots and on a belt that had previously been concealed by darkness. The jacket was open, and as the shadow’s torso and face caught the light, a gasp escaped Cecily’s throat.

A black, ornately patterned bra strained to hold in a pair of shapely breasts. The dull light gleamed off a spherical bellybutton piercing set with a tiny sapphire. The face was sharp, but beautiful. The lips curled back from that unholy smile gleamed with crimson lipstick, and the eyes, startlingly green, were framed by long black eyelashes. Her mysterious stalker was a woman? Somehow, Cecily’s mind couldn’t comprehend that.

The woman moved up to Cecily, and stopped in front of her; she was a few inches taller than her quarry, and had to crane her neck down slightly to meet Cecily’s eyes. Out of necessity, the smile was replaced by a slight lifting of the corners of her lips as she began to speak, “You were looking so terrified just a moment ago, and now you just seem confused. Is something wrong?” her voice was soft, attractively husky, and inexplicably polite, given the circumstances. She stretched out her arms and placed them on the wall, on either side of Cecily’s shoulders.

“You’re a woman,” blurted out Cecily in her clear voice with its posh English accent.

The woman replied in the affirmative… and then, without warning, leaned down and tenderly pressed her lips to Cecily’s, whose eyes widened in outrage. Maybe it was the woman’s hypnotic eyes, the faint, pleasant scent of her skin, or the taste of her lips – but Cecily found herself relaxing, closing her eyes and passionately reciprocating. A damp strand of hair detached itself from the woman’s face and drifted onto her cheek. She didn’t notice it; nor did she feel the icy needles of rain that alighted on her face and shoulders. Her body seemed to burn; she came off the wall and stumbled on trembling legs into the woman, whose arms encircled her in a soft embrace.

They broke apart. Cecily stared with half-lidded eyes into the woman’s entrancing green irises, blushing and breathing quickly. “You’re the first one who’s done that,” whispered the woman, smiling, “and just so you know, the fact that I’m a woman won’t make what I’m going to do to you any less painful.”

There was an ominous click – the sound of an opening switchblade. The warmth disappeared from Cecily’s body, and a cold snap of fear gripped her once again. Her eyes fell to the woman’s lips – they were once again pulled back in that awful smile.

(Author’s note: reverse déjà vu. On at least two separate occasions, I had a distinct feeling that I was reading what I thought just now, the bit about the bra. My sequence of thoughts as I was ordering what I was going to type in my mind was exactly what I ‘remember’ reading. When I came to actually type it, I didn’t remember what it was, though.... A really weird feeling.)

Description
Here's my biker chick, again. I'm starting to like her, maybe I'll draw her more often. A story popped into my head as I was drawing this; it was about the time when I started adding in the rain. Pen isn't the best medium for rain, maybe, and I think that if you didn't know it was rain, you wouldn't think it was rain. I've added this little story in below, for anyone who wants to read it. And yes, that girl's name *is* Cecily XD.

I think I had more fun doing the one with the bike, but I like this one just as much. Oh, and if anyone can tell me how to put italics, underlines, and bold in the description, I'll be very very grateful

UNDER THE RAIN.
Cecily ducked into an alley and sank, gasping for breath, against one rough wall. The rain pattered down, soaking her tattered dress and plastering the luxurious fabric against her body. She might have revelled in the sensual sensation of the silk clinging to her form if she weren’t being chased by a knife-wielding murderer at that very moment.

She damned her worthless boyfriend to hell and back. He just had to run off with the first slut he saw, leaving her stranded in a bad neighbourhood with no way of getting back other than her own two feet. And what happens to young, well-dressed girls on dark, rainy nights in bad neighbourhoods? You sure know how to pick them, Cecily, she thought with despair.

The rain had slackened in the last few hours, but it had been torrential earlier in the night – the heaviest she’d ever seen it. Cecily had discarded her shoes a few hundred metres earlier; the standing rainwater lapped at her ankles. The drains at the sides of the roads were overfilled, and water belched from the rain gutters that lined the roofs and windowsills of these rows of seedy, run-down buildings. There was water sloshing, splashing, falling, cascading, being torn apart by wheels… and Cecily couldn’t hear anything else. She had no way of knowing whether or not she’d lost her shadowy pursuer.

That particular question was answered when a shadow appeared at the mouth of the alley at high speed, dropping to a felid crouch. A flattened arrow of white appeared within upon the shadow’s face. It was smiling. Cecily’s heart beat a frenzied tattoo against her sternum, her mouth went dry, and she gave a soundless exhalation of terror. Her feet carried her backwards until her back bumped impotently against the alley’s back wall.

The shadow straightened, and Cecily could make out the outline of a baggy leather jacket, fitted jeans and heavy leather boots. Black hair hung down over one side of the shadow’s face, and distant, muted streetlights picked out a proudly bridged nose, a soft brow, a sharp cheekbone – and that damnable, demonic smile. Cecily’s feet pawed against the ground, uselessly pushing her against the wall. The shadowed form stalked forward, gracefully… maliciously.

It stepped into the circle of yellow provided by a dim light fixture above Cecily and to her right, mounted low on the alley wall. Hands were revealed, clad in leather half-gloves; fingers long and tapered, with black-varnished fingernails. Gleaming buckles were picked out on the boots and on a belt that had previously been concealed by darkness. The jacket was open, and as the shadow’s torso and face caught the light, a gasp escaped Cecily’s throat.

A black, ornately patterned bra strained to hold in a pair of shapely breasts. The dull light gleamed off a spherical bellybutton piercing set with a tiny sapphire. The face was sharp, but beautiful. The lips curled back from that unholy smile gleamed with crimson lipstick, and the eyes, startlingly green, were framed by long black eyelashes. Her mysterious stalker was a woman? Somehow, Cecily’s mind couldn’t comprehend that.

The woman moved up to Cecily, and stopped in front of her; she was a few inches taller than her quarry, and had to crane her neck down slightly to meet Cecily’s eyes. Out of necessity, the smile was replaced by a slight lifting of the corners of her lips as she began to speak, “You were looking so terrified just a moment ago, and now you just seem confused. Is something wrong?” her voice was soft, attractively husky, and inexplicably polite, given the circumstances. She stretched out her arms and placed them on the wall, on either side of Cecily’s shoulders.

“You’re a woman,” blurted out Cecily in her clear voice with its posh English accent.

The woman replied in the affirmative… and then, without warning, leaned down and tenderly pressed her lips to Cecily’s, whose eyes widened in outrage. Maybe it was the woman’s hypnotic eyes, the faint, pleasant scent of her skin, or the taste of her lips – but Cecily found herself relaxing, closing her eyes and passionately reciprocating. A damp strand of hair detached itself from the woman’s face and drifted onto her cheek. She didn’t notice it; nor did she feel the icy needles of rain that alighted on her face and shoulders. Her body seemed to burn; she came off the wall and stumbled on trembling legs into the woman, whose arms encircled her in a soft embrace.

They broke apart. Cecily stared with half-lidded eyes into the woman’s entrancing green irises, blushing and breathing quickly. “You’re the first one who’s done that,” whispered the woman, smiling, “and just so you know, the fact that I’m a woman won’t make what I’m going to do to you any less painful.”

There was an ominous click – the sound of an opening switchblade. The warmth disappeared from Cecily’s body, and a cold snap of fear gripped her once again. Her eyes fell to the woman’s lips – they were once again pulled back in that awful smile.

(Author’s note: reverse déjà vu. On at least two separate occasions, I had a distinct feeling that I was reading what I thought just now, the bit about the bra. My sequence of thoughts as I was ordering what I was going to type in my mind was exactly what I ‘remember’ reading. When I came to actually type it, I didn’t remember what it was, though.... A really weird feeling.)