"You are earlier than usual," I stopped Mireille at the conclusion of her morning jog.
"Everyone glared at me," she paused then added," especially the other joggers."
I chuckled for a reply before directing her back inside. She obeyed immediately, trotting towards the house, the sunlight reflecting off the sweat coating her heart shaped asset with each step she took in the pleated micro mini skirt.
I wonder what the view was like from the front. Or rush hour traffic for that matter.