Anthony Stark is Iron Man.
Sample: From her place by the window her eyes took in the tastefully decorated room, the 3 piece off white sofa set; with a glass table in the center looking onto the 44” Tv. One wall given to a six shelf-stand housing an eclectic collection of knick knacks, a not-so-subtle nudge that the owner was well travelled. The bookcase against the far wall with the obligatory set of (Man) Booker award winning titles from Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children to Michael Ondaatje’s English Patient bespoke of a well-read mind.
A well-read mind that was blank, Natasha admitted to herself, a blankness brought upon by indolence. Her gaze shifted back to the view outside; from the window of her second floor walkup she could see a group of teenage boys playing raucous game of baseball. A sigh escaped her lips as she switched her attention back to the screen in front of her and pondered a rapidly approaching deadline.
A shade over 5 6” with long black hair tied up in a ponytail, framing a sun kissed oval face with soft brown eyes, a pert nose over a mouth that had a rueful smile, Natsha looked closer to 30 than someone approaching 40, or would have if the heat of the day hadn’t left a visible sheen of perspiration on her, the sweat causing her blouse to stick to her double D cup breasts. The blouse ended exposing a midriff still taut but slowly giving away to fat, with love handles peeping above the lime green yoga pants that she wore......