Sep 082014
 

Public transportation is great. It feeds me, even when I’m not hungry.

Today, I was graced, first, by an olive-skinned, almond-eyed beauty with long, silky, black hair, full c-cup breasts, pouty lips, a form-fitting green cotton minidress, and flat sandals. She kept giggling – very sexy – while reading Douglas Adams – even sexier.

And, at the same time, by another olive-skinned babe, this one middle eastern, not Asian. She wore a tight white cotton v-neck t-shirt, the “v” plunging to about nipple level on her small b-cups, revealing not so much cleavage as a vast and lonely space between the curves of her smallish breasts. Her hair, black, full, was more of a mane than a head of hair: her face – sad – peeked out from the mane, occupying at best a third of the horizontal line drawn from edge to edge of hair. Her jeans – dark, tight – seemed new, and though not at all fat, her belly spilled out just a bit over the top. I hope her day brings her good things, that her sad look disappears.

And then, an elegant, subcontinental woman, angular face, black and white silk dress, hugged her purse while checking me out. I, blinded by the other two, only noticed as I arrived at my destination.

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