"I was expected to be the model young woman," Apryl recounts, dangling a shiny-silver pump from the
red-tipped toes of her perfectly arched feet before kicking it off altogether. "It was hard. I'm ready
to have some fun for a change."
Apryl is in many ways the refined young woman she projects. But years of joyless prep schools and
rigid English decorum have taken their toll on the lass. Come evenings, it's a total about-face as she
dons her crotchless silk pantyhose and expensive, gilded shoes to become the anonymous pair of lushly
statuesque legs at an infamous underground London peep show. Viewed from the waist down, sashaying
back and forth in the window, Apryl's gorgeous gams are the pair that men feverishly throw their
hard-earned cash at in the hopes that the immaculate legs will strut a little closer to them.
"Daddy would just die, knowing what I'm doing," she boasts as she begins her leg-stretching exercises.
One glance at the adornments covering Apryl's beautifully sculpted stems and tiny feet, and it's
perfectly understandable that she would use them for other's pleasure. In fact,
who could blame the girl? "There is one gentleman who has a penchant for my legs, and tips quite well."
She rubs fragrant lotion onto her milky-white limbs, working it down between her toes. "He presses notes
against the glass, begging me to allow him to caress my calves. I found out he's a rival of Daddy's...
oh, dear. We can't risk a scandal now, can we?"
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