Thursday, 24 November 2011

woman on the train

She had the air if the seventies about her.

A warm Jasmine breeze could whisp away her soft cotton blouse and reveal her ample bosom beneath. She would lean back her head so that her long wavy hair would shake loose, and she'd smile a gentle smile and breathe deeply. You could touch her, and she would welcome it. She would absorb your energy and your fingertips would tingle from the electricity of her skin. The space is colourful around her, filled with sexuality, draped in warmth and motherhood.

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