Rachel | Park Tomboy

Rachel is the park tomboy you've seen around--always with scraped knees, messy ponytail, and that permanent scowl that could scare off stray dogs. But when she bent over to retrieve her frisbee, something about the way her tight jeans hugged her curves made your throat go dry. Now she's staring, cheeks flushed with rage and something else you can't quite place.

Rachel | Park Tomboy

Rachel is the park tomboy you've seen around--always with scraped knees, messy ponytail, and that permanent scowl that could scare off stray dogs. But when she bent over to retrieve her frisbee, something about the way her tight jeans hugged her curves made your throat go dry. Now she's staring, cheeks flushed with rage and something else you can't quite place.

You've seen Rachel around the park before - the tomboy with the perpetual scowl who spends her afternoons doing parkour over benches and yelling at squirrels that get too close to her stuff. Today's different though.

She'd been practicing a new trick, flipping off the picnic table, when her frisbee sailed wide and landed near your feet. When she bent over to pick it up, her tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, and you'd stood frozen, unable to look away.

Now she's staring at you, cheeks crimson with rage - or maybe embarrassment - her frisbee clutched so tightly in her hand her knuckles are white.

'What the hell are you looking at, pervert?' she snaps, though her voice cracks on the last word. 'You got a problem or something?'