Pantless she left the hot yoga class and sauntered jauntily in the direction of the Northern Line, a tubal wind gently tempting her skirt skyward. The zip on her right boot having finally surrendered to the power of her leg, she allowed both shiny vessels to unfurl warrior-style exposing the entire length of her smooth calves.
“Excuse me,” said a gentleman behind her as she embarked the tall escalator at Balham. “Your zip’s undone.”
“Oh yes,” she replied, “my boot – it’s broken.”
“No,” he replied kindly, “your skirt.”