I went out to breakfast this morning, not far from Times Square, and on my way home I was distracted by an Asian girl in her twenties who, despite the gray, chilly weather, was wearing flip-flops. She was walking with a group of friends. Her toenails were polished brightly, and her sturdy tan legs were bare up to the middle of her thighs, where they met the hem of her short black skirt.
This is not exactly what her own feet looked like, but I thought I’d throw in a little eye candy which I found on a site called Very Naughty Feet here. Gauge by your own reactions to their beauty an approximation of what I felt…
Anyway, I decided just to enjoy the view, which took me out of my way for the long city block between Eighth Avenue and Broadway. Although I’ve been recovering from a cold this weekend, and kept blowing my nose into various fragments of Kleenex–and kept telling myself I should really go home and put on a warmer jacket–I managed to savor the sight of the young lady’s strong curvy calves and the backs of her knees. (I find the backs of knees extremely sexy.)
When they neared Broadway the group stopped and tried to get their bearings. They appeared to be tourists, and were deciding in which direction to go next. I walked past them and turned around (with subtlety I hoped) for one last surreptitious gaze upon the young lady’s colorful toes in her sandals. Then I turned away and looked toward the street, waiting for the light to change as I blew my nose yet once again.
The light was with me, yet this being New York in the age of the untrammeled propagation of bicyclists, I looked carefully each way to make sure no rider was zooming in my direction. As I did, I noticed one completely heedless bike rider bearing down the street and headed directly for a dark-haired thirtysomething woman who was walking into the road without seeing him. She was headed directly into his path. The bike rider wasn’t slowing down or adjusting and they were on a course to collide. I yelled out “MISS!” through my Kleenex and she stopped in her tracks, just as the bicyclist zoomed by inches from her face.
She looked at me for a brief moment and gave me an almost embarrassed smile, and then we continued on our individual ways in opposite directions.
Perhaps my lechery in following the Asian flip-flop girl for a block had a healthy side effect besides my own ocular pleasure. Because by taking me out of my way for a block, it enabled me to see that bicyclist, and warn the woman who was headed into his path.
And it’s ironic, given my fascination with Asian females, how both the woman I ogled and the woman I warned were both Asian.