Staying as much in the shadows as I could I moved until I could see into the room. A figure stood hunched in front of the kitchen table with her back to me. She was busy loading something in a bag by the light of a candle. Suddenly I wasn't afraid. The figure was slight and obviously female. I stepped forward and flicked on the light switch.As the room flooded with light the girl jumped back and gave a little scream before spinning round to face me. I almost laughed out loud. What a sad and pathetic sight greeted me. A young girl with rain-soaked and bedraggled hair, bare foot and wearing what I immediately recognised as the tatty remnants of a prison smock. The poor thing looked terrified."What do you think you're doing?"Silence."How did you get into my home?"Involuntarily she glanced sideways at the kitchen door. One small glass pane next to the lock had been broken and glass was on the floor."You little bitch! How dare you!"I moved swiftly and re-locked the back door and put the. "What do you mean?" You keep looking at my legs and feet," she said with mock accusation. "That's not true!" I spat, shaking my head. Without thinking, my gaze fell to her toes, distracted by the way she kept flexing them back and forth, stretching the thin material of her black pantyhose. Each painted jewel seemed to dance with a hypnotic rhythm that held my focus as they rippled back and forth.She snorted through her nose. "I mean, you're doing it right now," she said with a tone that was half annoyance, half amusement.I sighed. "I-I guess," I began, realizing with a dawning recognition of the blatantly obvious that she was right. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."But I did know, though the admission was shocking to me. All night long I'd been sneaking glimpses of my friend's long legs, studying the firm muscle of her calves; the way her strappy heels had pulled them into tight definition. I'd been captivated by the soft nylon wrinkle of gathered pantyhose behind her knee as she.
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