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I turned around and found him uncharacteristically gawking at me. Ron was usually a man of the utmost discretion, but seeing him standing in the shallow end with his mouth open nearly made me giggle! I decided to pretend I hadn't seen him looking at me and continued the "unveiling." With deliberate slowness, I untied the towel from around my breasts and let it slowly drop to the concrete. I reached both of my arms over my head, loving the lithe nimbleness of my new body, and stood on tiptoes in a mock stretch. I let out a little feminine squeal of happiness as I did this, then looked at Ron. "How's the water?" I asked.Ron, nearly overcome by the spectacle of the barely clad angel in front of him, took too long to respond and stammered when he did. "What's the matter," I asked coyly, bending over to wiggle my slender fingers in the water, "Cat got your tongue?" Ron regained some of his composure and said charmingly, "Cat's got nothing to do with it! I just wasn't expecting to be. It would be a long night. Her train wouldn’t arrive in Bellinzona until nearly a quarter to one in the morning and she wouldn’t be in Locarno until ten past. Her friend Alex, upon whom she was relying on for accommodation, worked late in a bar in Ascona a few kilometres away. He had told her to phone him on her mobile when she reached Locarno and he would come and pick her up. Alex was an old friend and entirely sympathetic when she’d phoned him and told him she needed to get away for a few days; a few days to take stock of her life and the apparent chaos it which it had seemingly descended with the demise of her recent relationship.Miranda saw the dark haired girl pick up her bags. She had a small suitcase on wheels and what appeared to be a large camera case. Miranda shouldered her own bag and moved toward the train. From the corner of her eye she saw the dark haired girl pause at the platform edge to allow a passenger to disembark. It was then that her persistently questing eyes.
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