Little rivulets streamed down the nape of her neck as she stepped out of shower and reached for the fresh lavender fragrant bathrobe. Usually she would hurriedly pat dry herself, get into some clothes and start her usual routine but today something made her linger. Absently she ran her slender fingers over the soft plush fabric smoothing out the nonexistent creases and remembering how he had looked at her the other day. His eyes pools of longing.
Friction of her wet thighs started a fire that exploded in her body like a rocker flare. She shifted uncomfortably, surprised by her hunger and as she turned she caught sight of herself in the long mirror and then, she saw herself from his eyes.
It was long since she had really seen herself in nude. Little prisms of water quivering on her smooth flesh, her prominent collar bones and the taut angular muscular neck, ripe full breasts, the curve of her belly, the supple soft folds of her body now glowing in the sunset colours of her beauty, she felt the heart of her desire throb with longing between her legs.
She was at an age where she had begun to regret staying faithful to a man who had never really loved her. For years her soul dwelled in an unknown body of a woman she did not associate with, an empty bottle thrown in a corner by some drunkard.
But now, as she stood there gazing at herself, inflamed by the urgency of a choice between a last hope of an exotic experience or a final resignation. Drenched in a blend of magic and mayhem, need and disruption, she began to question the course her life had chosen long ago. For the first time in her solitary, confined life she saw in herself a possibility and a potential of corruption that left her breathless.
This post is written for WEEK #62 (7-22-12 to 7-28-12): Breathless