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The Girl In the Gondola

By Ernest Winchester

Copyright: 2010 By Ernest Winchester

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The Girl In the Gondola

She wore dark sunglasses and a string of faux pearls. She wore nothing else. She ignored me. I couldn’t ignore her. As impolite as I knew it was, I couldn’t remove my eyes from her naked body. Such a thing of perfection. I know, a woman shouldn’t be referred to as a thing, but she had all the allure of a Greek or Roman statue with none of the coldness of marble or granite. She stood at the edge of the gondola railing, her right hand on the top handrail. The angle at which she stood allowed me a full view of her well-sculpted ass, but she was turned in such a way that I also had a full vision of her left breast. It too looked as if an artisan well schooled in the female form had molded it. I gave a silent thanks to her maker. She didn’t seem to care that I stared. Obviously she was an exhibitionist. To stand blatantly exposed before a stranger with no apparent embarrassment indicated that.

I hadn’t noticed her at first. I had been enjoying the view out across the mountain terrain as the cable car swung out of the lower station before glancing back inside to see her standing there in all her radiant beauty. For many startled minutes after, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

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