Legs

For one brief moment I thought that I was caught up in some Edward Hopper painting. The shapely blonde, obviously slightly worse for wear, sprawled on the living-room couch, her near naked legs lounging over the arm, feet towards me. Chris de Burgh might have sung about this very female, her and her red dress. Her well groomed companion uttered something about keys as I moved through the room on my way to the kitchen. Honestly, I was too distracted by the female presence to reply.

I made toast and, on the way back through the living room, guiltily made polite conversation. I’ve not seen female legs so nude for over two years. It was most disconcerting. I didn't know where to look. But decided, as they were there, I might just as well look at those items so prominently on display while I spoke briefly to the new tenant and his night partner.