*This is just a little something – it still needs more plot development, but tell me what you think!
She had a long black braid trailing to the edge of her red blouse. It was like a snake, this braid; sometimes it would strike out to bite, sharp and full of venom. Sometimes it was a weapon; she would grasp the braid with one hand and crack it against you – your face, your head, your ass. I’m sure if it had eyes, they would have been narrow and green and vicious.
Jorge said that she was his little jalapeno, his firecracker. Her laugh was bright and fierce, as if her spiciness was lit from within and spewed out from her belly. I wonder if Jorge was ever treated with the braid; I suspect that she tamed him, as she tamed others, though she remained wild and feral and free.