Legs
The path back to our villa wound steeply uphill, through the rocky scrub. As night fell, the chirps of cicadas filled the air, competing with the soft sounds of the receding tide on the beach below.
She walked ahead of me, shoes in one hand, bare feet springing from one step to the next. With each step, her calves, strong and toned, flexed, and her thighs tensed and released. The breeze, or was it the sway of her hips? lifted her sundress, giving me fleeting glimpses of her bare cheeks.
As the gate to the villa shut behind me, I heard her giggle, and a splash. A puddle of dress and shoes lay on the terrace. And in the pool, a shy smile, a crooked finger. An invitation.
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