Geraldine Hopkins walked slowly along the platform of the Leicester Square underground station looking up at the indicator board for a train to take her home to her flat in Kentish Town. She saw she had a ten-minute wait, which was not bad. It was not yet eleven, and the platform, though busy, was not packed and a lot of people were still heading up the escalators to the delights of the West End of London rather than going home. Geraldine glanced around, noticing a few people looking at her: a couple of men and a woman seem to be interested in what she was wearing. Though she had made great strides today, Geraldine was still a little self-conscious of how she appeared and took a few steps along the platform, feeling even more aware of the leathers she wore than before. The way she had dressed had all been part of her marking a change. She knew the outfit she wore was not that rare for a woman of her age, early forties, it was usually when a woman reached that age that she could afford to dress like this. Younger women preferred the distressed denims anyway. Though it might be acceptable, Geraldine did feel such an outfit did say something about the woman who dressed like that and how she saw herself. Trying to avoid anyones gaze she looked down at herself, the smooth black leather boots had a heel, but nothing too outrageous. The black leather jacket, unfussy, collarless, stretching to just above her waist was common enough for women of all ages in London these days. Maybe it was combining it with the trousers that made the difference. The black leather trousers were snug without being skin-tight. She liked the lack of pockets that would have confused things and how the leather smoothly skimmed her bum, its size and shape she was particularly proud of, the result of sensible eating and exercise. The outfit was completed by a white ribbed top, that again gently showed off her assets without over-emphasising them.
Geraldine had put on jewellery for todays trip ou... Læs hele novellen
