207. a private function *

seamed stockings hove into view & shapely legs; she hitches up her dress pulls down her French knickers, sits, not two feet away, and strikes a match on the bare brick walls of the outside lavvie & settles with a woodbine blue smoke in sunshines in over the top of the door and dusty sparkles floating in the shafts of light he sees the downy golden hairs on her arms, the pink rubber & wire suspenders on her thighs and all else that passes whilst she smokes her cigarette, unhurriedly she cannot hear the frantic rustling or laboured breathing through the peephole into her private world but finishes what she needs to do as does he and flushes but as she lifted the latch stepped out & turned, he swore she looked back over her shoulder momentarily and winked.