Selkie

She rises from the pool
Dripping
Gleaming in the moonlight
Shakes crystal sparks of water
Carelessly from her hair
Then casts aside a shadow
Sits and lets the gentle breeze
Caress her
Enfold her in its loving embrace

The unseen watcher
Clenches his fingers
Holds his breath as she arches her back
Offering her breasts to the silver fingers of moonlight
Slips a hand down beteen her legs
And begins a slow
Langorous teasing

(cont. . .)

Chance Meeting

So far from the proverbial
Gaze across a crowded room
Instead, she was lying
Mud-besmirched
In the garden
Fascinated by a tiny spider
The miniature
Intricate lace of its handiwork
Stretched between two rhododendrons

And he
He was simply passing through on his way to the manor
Part of a hunting party
Scheduled to meet with her brother
12 pm sharp

But her skirt
Rucked up so casually above her calves
Smooth, pale flesh so carelessly exposed
Gave him pause
And her neck
So gracefully inclined in her fascination
Made him halt
Stop dead
And stare

And if he slipped a hand up under that skirt
And if she gasped, but wriggled down upon it anyway
Eyes shut tight in
What -- Shyness? Pleasure?

And if he turned her over
Pushed her skirt high up
Those long
Smooth legs
And entered her
With just a hint of urgency

And if she pressed down hard upon his stiffness
Taking him deep inside herself
Feeling him move within her
Pressing back against each eager thrust

Well who could blame them?