She wanted to feel that rush of rejuvenation again. But it was not to be, for the mirror highlighted every flaw, even the faintest. Located in the same area as her bath, it was lit by a few soft lights on a dimmer switch, which she could ramp up should she need to examine any imperfection in her skin.

On a purely intellectual level, she couldn’t believe that blood of younger women would actually retard aging or revitalize her skin, but then again, hadn’t she noticed the changes to her own body?

With a critical eye, she surveyed herself in the mirror, searching for the telltale signs of age: wrinkles around her lips; crinkling at the corners of her eyes; the beginning of a crease at the base of her neck; the sagging of her abdomen despite a regimen of crunches, sit-ups, weight lifting, and cardio workouts. There was a thin line between being fit and slim and just plain skinny. But none of her bones showed where they shouldn’t. Her musculature was perfect and her skin still creamy and taut, her nipples tight and dark. No strands of gray dared shoot through her lustrous black hair.

Yet.

But age, she knew, was a relentless enemy and though she’d used all kinds of creams along with her private regimen, she hadn’t gone so far as to seriously consider liposuction or dermabrasion or a laser peel.

For the moment, she’d refrained from doing anything so radical.

She hadn’t needed to.

Because her remedy was working. Now, studying her flawless, age-spot-free skin minutely, she found it near perfect. Youthful. Vanity caused her to smile. She hadn’t been born beautiful; in fact, she remembered her mother saying she’d been an “ugly” baby, her head misshapen, her eyes too large, her hair patchy, her body frail. But she’d blossomed from an awkward tot and gawky girl into a teenager who had made boys and men twist their stupid necks as she’d strolled by.

It was that feeling, that rush from the power of her beauty, that she refused to relinquish. And so she’d done her research and realized despite her genes, and the help of products, age would try to destroy her. Her eyes would sag and grow puffy and dark, her skin would lose its elasticity, her breasts would droop, and flabby little pockets would try to appear.

Except she had a way to fight back.

Her secret method, she thought, twisting in the mirror and looking over her shoulder at her reflection. Her buttocks were still tight and firm, her waist small. And, from the pictures she’d seen, she looked amazingly like her stunning namesake. Actually, she decided with a tilt of her head, she was even more beautiful.