Linda walked along the street, her high heels clip clopping on the pavement as she walked. She called at number twelve, and collected her book, then walked on. Mr Clark at number fifteen looked up from his gardening and watched her pass. She knew he was watching her, and swung her hips, smiling to herself. It was mid summer, a warm late afternoon. She wore a pair of gladiator sandals, heeled to define her calfs which were crisscrossed by the long thongs which reached her knees.
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