She followed a purposeful path towards the rhododendrons. The gardens were looking radiant. The sun was high and she was wearing her wide brimmed hat....atching, I struggled to believe my eyes. This vision of beauty lying on the bench, her hat lying on the floor. Her body open to the world. Slowly, deliberately she trailed her hands down her body. Her breasts heaving, her nipples a dark dusky pink matching some of the flowers. Her fingers rolling, pinching, tugging her peaks. Something powerful. She’d buried it deep in a box of her winter clothes along with a bottle of his cologne after he left that day. She could smell HIM now all over her. ‘I don’t know where your goddamned shirt is! And what the fuck use do I have for your cologne?’ She had lied. But then, she was pretty drunk by then, she could have forgotten. No. She’d lied. She never forgot anything. Ever. Just like she would never forget how she screeched at him when he came back. While waving a nearly empty bottle of HIS. More

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