The profile of her face was lovely. She was nobly born to possess such perfect features, and that hair bespoke of foreign blood. It shimmered in the s...nlight as it bounced on her armor.“What are you looking at?” Angela demanded. “Do I have a speck of dirt on my face.”“I...what?” I demanded.“You were staring at my face, my Lady.”My cheeks burned. I looked ahead. “I was doing no such thing. I was watching the...um...interesting sights.”Angela looked to her left. “Right. Because a peasant mucking. The chill in café had hardened Sandra’s nipples so they poked against the nylon/elastane fabric of her pink gingham patterned form fitting big nipple brassiere and were visible through her adorable spring-inspired print lace-trimmed tank top. It was then that Sandra noticed him. He was a young hipster with dark swarthy euro looks and sideburns. Actually, since Sandra could was observing the young man’s profile from his left side, she could only see one sideburn. Sandra assumed she had a. More

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