A tight white sweater, short skirt that showed off her long tanned shapely legs (my weakness.) I looked her over as she stood in line and she looked m... over where I sat with a mischievous smile on her full lips. Then I looked at the way she moved her hips as she sauntered to a table close at hand. Her? Our? Story in poetical prose of rhythmic stanzas that will curl a girl’s toes. No rings she donned, “I’m a free woman” her song, As she crossed her long shapely legs, And looked at me impishly. But the woman who approached, with a huge smile on her face, and spoke with her mother's voice ... didn't look like her mother at all."I am Petra Valovitski. Nadia is my daughter. I am very proud to meet you." Mama?" Nadia's voice rose into the soprano registers. "You spoke English!" It's about all I know," replied the woman in Russian. "Please don't embarrass me." But what happened? You look so young! You're so pretty!"Petra ignored her daughter, though. She turned to the taller, older man.. More

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