The next day, the girl got up late and sat in her pajamas reading the newspapers with her flat mate, she wanted to tell the flat mate about the previous night, showing her body to strangers on the museum steps, but knew that she wouldn't be understood, and wasn't quite sure that she understood herself.
Lunchtime came and went. Flat mate went for her usual long bike ride, the girl was alone, she kept on thinking about the museum steps, replaying it over and over, the feeling of control, empowerment, the filthiness, and the sexiness. The girl went to her room, and with her rabbit, came quickly and totally.
She had some chores to do this afternoon, before an evening watching DVDs and a bottle of wine with her flat mate. The weekly trip to the supermarket and an hour and a half in the launderette.
The girl had always thought of herself as being good looking, fit and sexy, she didn't go in for blouses, high heels, miniskirts and layers of makeup. She was comfortable in her old denim skirt, stripy socks, baseball boots and a fairly tight top to show of her boobs, she loved her tits, and she thought her tits loved her. The girl thought again about flashing her knickers on the museum steps the night before, ooo and the tingle down under.
At the launderette, the girl sat with her back to the wall, she wasn't in the mood for reading pointless blogs, so uncoiled her earphones and chose some old relaxing music, she sat with her eyes closed listening to Pink Floyds' wish you were here album, which reminded her of her uncle smoking dope at her parents' house when she was little.