jamiereadthis
Written on Dec 19, 2019
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From time to time, Alice found herself looking a little too closely, too warmly, at a woman. At home it had been the curate's sister, then the landlady at the inn. At first, she reassured herself that everyone must have this difficult: women's bodies were just good and one did enjoy looking at good things. One didn't want to ogle, but it was like admiring a particularly well-iced cake, that was all. Perfectly natural. Later, she had to acknowledge that her thoughts about women did not much resemble her thoughts about cake, however well-iced.