She was fine. Fine in that way that African women sometimes are. The kind of fine that evokes jealousy from other members of their sex, and all manner of attention from the opposite sex.
Her hair reached her waist. Extensions granted, but it fell long, black and silky. And it contrasted appealingly with the creamy fairness of her skin. A glance would reveal that as natural, having none of the unevenness that comes with toning. Standing five foot six and shaped like an hour glass, only an eunuch would pass her without being moved.
He was not one. If anything, his young blood ran hot and untamed.
He was so taken in he did not see the manhole. He screamed all ten feet to impact.
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