She turned away and my eyes refused to leave her pants.
They weren’t the type of legwear she slipped into in the morning, but the kind that were painted on with a thin lacquer that accentuated her calves and the gentle swells of her thighs. Nothing was left to the imagination as she paced and turned.
I could tell that each of the guys I was sitting with was thinking the same thing: Those pants are wonderful. Then, as a follow-up, I thought: Is it weird that one of our pastors is wearing them?
We were sitting in the young