The Sight of Her Legs
He saw the brown-haired girl sitting at the front. She was the only girl in the room wearing shorts, and her legs were perfect. Her skin appeared so soft and smooth that he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the long shining limbs of perfection. She had on a blue sweater above it, a sweater with a gold zipper drawing a beeline to her bright red lips. He wondered what it would be like to kiss those bright red lips, gaze into those shining blue eyes, stroke those legs, caress that delightfully slim waist. She was the last in the circle of food bank volunteers, and it was her turn to introduce herself at the orientation meeting. “My name is Jen,” she said in a sweet, sincere voice, “and I’m a senior …