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I meet Anna Slavko in Sofia, Bulgaria. She works in a luxury clothing shop in the city. What initially attracts me to her is the tight grey skirt she’s got on, pressing against her slender curves. Her long bronze legs command authority as she strides over to the changing rooms in high heels. Her shiny brown hair falls by her shoulders.
I look around the shop, picking up a couple of Lacoste polo shirts, white and navy blue. The little green crocodile reminds me of past holidays in the sunny Mediterranean, where Lacoste shops sit along prestigious arcades, backing onto sleepy piazzas.
As I get near the changing room area, I spot Anna Slavko again. She’s busily putting hangers back on clothes people have tried on. Then, as I’m admiring the view, she drops a hanger on the floor. She crouches down to get it, but as she does so I can’t help but glimpse at the little black and white dotted underwear she’s showing beneath her skirt, probably a thong. Naughty girl. She quickly stands back up. But now I want her.