The day was warming up in South Beach. It was a pleasant 70 degrees with blue skies. I saw her from a distance, sitting on the grass across from the beach, taking off a sweater. I thought to myself: perhaps she is waiting for someone, or perhaps she is a local, taking a break from her day. As I walked nearer to her, she turned to lay on her belly, completely unaware that I had spotted her from a distance. As I approached, I wondered if I would be disturbing her, but I said hello and asked her name. She looked up at me and simply said, "Janice." I asked her where she was from - she did not answer. I asked if I could take her picture - "Yes." She lifted herself to her elbows to reveal her breasts, fallen out of her low-cut swimsuit top.
She reached in her bag then looked down at her exposed chest. I turned away to give her privacy. A moment later I turned around, and she was standing next to me. I discovered what she was rummaging for: flip flops, proper beach attire. I asked again where she was from - Miami? Miami Beach? She said something, but I did not understand. Then she told me about her bathing suit. She told me she liked them low-cut and modeled it for me, holding back her button-up, striped shirt so that I could have a better look.
She asked where I wanted to take her photo, and I asked if we could talk as well. She agreed but said to take the photo first and then talk. Her breast was still out of her low-cut, black swimsuit, which seemed a bit small for her. I gestured that she cover herself, noticing the pedestrians as they passed by. She looked down and pulled her shirt closed, but quickly let it go again.
She suggested that we go over to the phone booth, so she could pose for me there and that she could act like she was talking on the phone. She wanted to model - this was South Beach. I reminded her to cover herself again, looking around to see another pedestrian or two approaching. She pulled her shirt closed then simply let it go again, so I mimed that she should tuck her breast into her swimsuit. She did, then followed with a fuchsia-colored flower to accessorize, commenting that it was pretty. The flower perfectly matched her nail-polish, and her fingernails were perfectly painted, immaculately trimmed. I noticed she had smooth, clear skin.
She picked up the phone and made her pose. I took her picture - twice. She asked me if I got my shot, and I told her I did. She came over to me, looked at my camera, and told me it was nice then patted me on the arm to say goodbye. We never got to have that conversation.
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