Miranda's plump, tanned breasts are held up by a strapless bra
you don't see underneath her tight orange singlet. Sunlight
reflects off the billboard where the photo editor added gleam on
her breasts and it shines into your eyes as you stare at her
chest like you're staring to the face of a deity. The sportsgirl
logo on her top stretches with the elastic it's printed on as the
fabric shows the slightest hint of strain containing her generous
C+ cup size. Sunkissed skin wraps without folds around her neck
and delicate head, soft red lips slightly apart reveal the
slightest gap between her two front teeth. Piercing elongated
eyes look at you like you've interrupted her but she's pleased
that you did.
Sleek, light brown hair blonded at the tips sinks slightly back
past her shoulders. It's all so slight. So delicate. So
perfectly crafted. But there are Mirandas everywhere. Everywhere
there are half closed eyelids and lips, there are legs raised
slightly in the air so the shorts drop just ever so slightly you
wonder what you see when the leg keeps going. There's blonde hair
being windswept in every direction. Soft blue eyes and doe brown
eyes and elfish green eyes and mysterious gray eyes peer at you
over shoulders, through clothes, seducing you, submitting to you.
The tops of breasts peer at you everywhere as if nothing can
The bottoms of asscheecks slip out shorts, skirts and dresses.
Pectorals, biceps, abdominal muscles. Square cut jaws, dark hair,
shorts worn just low enough that the defined "V" leading towards
the crotch shows. Perfectly ratioed amounts of body hair.
Gleaming white teeth and confident grins. Fit young men with
skateboards and surfboards and various inflatable balls. None of
them wear shirts.
I see someone cleaning graffitti off a billboard. There's another
beautiful girl on this one too, laying down in her bikini. She's
been there for about a year now. A man in a blue jumpsuit reaches
down into a white bucket with a special kind of industrial
chemical in the soap that won't stratch the ink on the billboard
panels. While one man cleans and preserves the image of Kirsty, a
19 year old blonde bombshell with killer legs and hips to die for
selling a kind of gem encrusted high heel, nearby another is
cleaning blood off the street after a 29 year old jumped off his
balcony, only leaving the note "I have never had a companion".
The panoramic view of his highrise apartment directly faced
Kirsty. Every night he saw her and looked at her barely clad,
nubile body and longed for her. If anyone ever aked him he said
that he didn't find women like that attractive but he did. She
took hold of his dreams and he knew he needed to have her, but he
never got it because he had a lot of acne and too much body fat
and didn't have a square cut jaw or confident grin or abdominal
muscles. He only ever knew the embrace of the rapidly approaching
And at the same time, both cleaners dip their gloved hands into
the buckets, pull out sponges and wipe gently in small circles.
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