Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Evening Standard


Sometimes the Northern Line is wonderful.

I sat wearing my lovely black boots and a short skirt. Opposite me was the cutest possible young black guy. He was trying not to be seen looking at my bare legs but I noticed his glances over the top of my copy of the Evening Standard. So ever so subtly I parted my legs enough for the lad to see that I hadn’t put my knickers on again before I left the office.

No comments:

Post a Comment