With July in full swing, the temperatures here in the Boston area have begun to soar. Days with temps in the 90s are one of those things you have to get used to if you live in Massachusetts in the summer: it's right up there along with cowboy drivers on Storrow Drive or a Red Sox-Yankees pennant race, or -- if you want to go that far -- the State Police patrolling Route 495 on a holiday weekend.
There are other things you get used to when you're living in Massachusetts in the month of July: for instance, all of the lovely women of the Greater Boston area wear less and less clothing as the temperature skyrockets. You can find them along the beaches of Cape Cod, walking Newbury Street while shopping, or even jogging along the banks of the Charles River.
I have my own personal favorite female viewing area: the subway. It sounds kind of corny, not to mention stalkerish, but think of it this way: where else are you going to find beautiful women stationary for at least two minutes anywhere in the city of Boston during the summer?? I mean, they are constantly in motion -- the women, I mean. The subway, I think, is a great place to meet women, or at least look at them before they go on about their travels.
For the past week I have been riding the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority's Red Line daily to visit my father, who is in the hospital after falling gravely ill on the Fourth of July. For the 20 minute ride from Alewife to Charles/MGH, I have my choices of things to occupy my mind: read a book, the newspaper, or stare at my sneakers -- no one talks on the T unless they are with someone. I choose none of the above and decide to look at women. I know my father would want me to continue scoping out the babes, because Lord knows if he were along for the ride, he would also be looking at the ladies too. Sly dog, my father. But I digress.
One day as I prepared for my silent journey through the bowels of Cambridge, I had pulled into Alewife and had parked a few spaces away from a trio of people leaving their SUV. One was a guy, the other two were female. One was tall and could possibly be model material: very statuesque, with long dirty blonde hair, a tanned face and an unbelievable smile. She had the look of a model but didn't flaunt it. She wore blue jeans to cover her long legs and a black shirt complete with lacey frills around her neck. I didn't have the chance to get a good look at her body, because my attention was drawn toward her female companion.
She couldn't have been more than 18. But from what I saw, she walked with the grace and maturity of a woman in her mid 20s. I caught myself staring, but who cares? I rushed to get my mother's things for the day and followed the trio down to the trains, as they had started walking as soon as I had gotten out of the car.
Because either they walked too slow or I walked with a brisk gait, I caught up to them at the booth where you buy your tokens. In no time I was walking behind them, and that is when I got a good look at her. Long black hair extended to just below her shoulders, and she had streaks of blonde intermittently placed throughout her mane. A pretty face that could have been crafted out of the finest porcelain. Cute feet, ones only a person with a foot fetish could love, toe nails painted pale pink, clad in one-and-a-half inch heels. As I glanced up and down her body, I saw her perfect frame with curves in all the right places. I caught the outline of her bikini panties through the free-flowing blue skirt she was wearing -- which matched her shoes in hue -- as she walked down the stairs. They entered a subway car, and I followed right behind.
