A quote from Robert Heinlein's novel Friday.

She's just a friend though. She comes over to see me once a week. We do lunch at the weekends. We party once a month. She curls up beside in bed now and again. It's non-sexual, I promise. It took a while, I don't view her in that way anymore. Until last week.

Her house is being redecorated, she's at my flat a lot. Her hot water was out, so she came and soaked in my bath. She came back into the kitchen dressed, hair wet, except without her shoes and tights.

We started on magnetic poetry, turning it into a competition, racing to finish each other's lines, until I looked down ...

Her feet, uncovered, bare skin, and my thoughts wander ... but why feet?

The thing is, I like bumps, curves, not feet. I guess Heinlein got it right ...

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