.. out
here, three miles from town, with the hours verging toward midnight ...
seated on the river bank, trying to capture the glory of the moon on
canvas.
But, unusual as her action was, there was nothing mad about her mode of
dressing ... her white middy blouse, edged with blue ... her flowing tie
... her dainty, blue serge skirt and dainty shoes.
I lay there, happy in being near her, the unknown.
After a long time she rose ... gave a sigh ... brushed her hand over her
hair.
Fascination held me close as she stooped over ... began leisurely to
untie her shoes ... set them, removed, aside, toe to toe and heel to
heel, equal, as if for mathematical exactness ... paused a moment ...
lifted her skirts, drew off her garters with a circular downward sweep
... drew down her stockings....
She sat with her stockings off, stuffed into her shoes,--her skirt up to
her hips, gazing meditatively at her naked legs held straight before
her.
I was close enough to hear her breathing--or so keen in my aroused
senses that I thought I heard it. She wiggled her toes to herself as she
meditated.
She paused as if hesitating to go on with her undressing. A twig
snapped. She came to her knees and looked about, startled, then
subsided again, tranquil and sure of her solitude.
* * * * *
She stood in the moonlight, naked.
Pages:
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412