VESPA by BRIAN MACDONALD
Vesper by Athena Dixon Response
Across the square a stout brown leg swung up and over the seat of the Vespa. Fluttering in the breeze her skirt, a slip of blue cotton covered in tiny white anchors, swung up and over with her. Tumbled when the fabric caught and twirled her to the square. A slight movement designed to hide the expanse of thighs, her attempt to find a graceful way to rise. When she finally managed to pull her body from the ground, a plume of gritty dust came with her. The anchors were weightless, sacrificed their worth for my momentary gain of flesh.