I don't own SamCham, but oh, how I'd like to borrow those boys...
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There is an artless beauty to her, different from the practiced grace of the geisha. The way the over-large kimono slides from her shoulders to pool at her feet, the thoughtful pause as she lets her hair tumble down her back…
This life has left her remarkably untouched. Other women her age are already soft and sagging with the burdens of motherhood, but not she. I gaze upon her, rapt, as water sluices over thighs firmed by miles traveled on foot; moonlight gilds high, pale breasts as yet untouched by man. I am… discomfited by the feelings roused by this vision; am I guardian or voyeur? Even I am uncertain of my role…
A gravelly chuckle interrupts my contemplation. "That's it, baby, show us what you got…" He deserves the smart rap of knuckles upon his thick skull. "Ow! ' the fuck you do that for, fish face?" His pained cry elicits an indignant glare from the subject of my ruminations. She draws her kimono tightly about her and stomps away. Damned cretin never could appreciate aesthetics.