Rosetta's large dark eyes, reserved but warm, register the hint of a smile.
"Che cosa dici, ragazzo? Non parlo inglese. L'italiano è la lingua della bellezza, sai. E io vivo solamente per la bellezza. Vieni."
Rosetta turns again toward the studio and walks in, her off-white-colored Lycra tights showing every svelte subtly shifting curve in the motion of the musculature of her shapely legs.
As she comes in view of the mirror, she lifts her arms in graceful arcs above her head and bends back, lifting her face toward Heaven. Her tiny breasts disappear as they flatten out against her chest wall. At the same time, on her bare exposed back, the tips of her shoulder blades begin to protrude. Balledir blinks as he briefly has the mental illusion that her breasts had moved from her front to her back. As she sweeps her arms down and bends slightly at the waist, her little breasts reappear in front, their subtle countours elegantly enhanced and highlighted by the shirred ruche of the leotard fabric between them. [/i]