walk on, through the rain

On the dash board are a pair of feet. Cherry pink heels with jauntus yellow sole’s. Folded ontop of one another, they sit like plump, fleshy, organic ornamentals. The biggest nail of the remaining eight, softly curling around the diameter of the hallux and dig cavernous pits into the entry of the strong callus skin that bows like a canoe on it edges. At its peak, a moon crescent of opaque clear nail still glows, as the sun bakes the lime green varnish dry. A high arch cracks and bends with the rhythm of the bouncing automobile and while they look like they might slip and fall into my lap, i know very well they won’t. The feet catch my attention, mostly, because they lay across the dash near my hands. Every time i make a turn, which hasn’t been very often on this long straight out back road, i over extend my arm and shyly ensure my fingers rub softly against her bare skin. It excites me tremendously, i wonder if she knows. It’s the secrets that make a woman sexy.

A woman is always more sexy with her clothes on.