Johanna and her Sisters
It was a hard-driving summer rain sent us scurrying for shelter from drenching downpour. Soaking wet, we ducked inside a little Café just off the Rue Brancin. Squeezed into a corner booth I found myself between the two breathless sisters: Johanna my lover, vivacious and eager, laughing and shaking her wet russet hair to send it cascading down in loose curls around her smiling face; and on the other side, Brie, her light summer dress damply plastered to her narrow shoulders and those small heaving breasts, the tops of which peeked out at me from the slight curve of her bodice. Johanna was solidly built and pleasantly curved, while her sister, a cool blonde with bangs and a soft bowl of hair cropped high off her neck, had the long straight body of a lanky fashion mod
