Her dark eyes, sultry and steamy flashed him a side ward’s glance from beneath the black lace of her Mantilla and in return he gave her a more appraising look altogether, focusing on the curvaceous figure beneath her conservative Sunday dress.
Her eyes flashed up again, a lingering languid glance which spoke volumes of
her being very much a woman and not the putative girl her parents would have
her be still.
She was the centre of his admiration, and he was hers as they saw recognition
in each other’s eyes, no words were spoken everything was intuit and with
amative study and libidinous perusal, the girl was his object of pulchritude
and he was her beloved swain.
All at once they had
to separate and the spell was broken until their reunion, for they were not
strangers first met on those church steps.
However the last time
he had looked in to the eyes of the young woman in the black lace Mantilla she
was wearing black lace of a very different kind.
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