She lay restlessly on her bed...the freshly laid white sheets long since crumpled by her tossing and turning...the light duvet, also crisp white in colour, kicked ruthlessly away so that it now lay half at the foot of the bed and half bunched on the floor. The room was heavy with thick humidity...no air being able to provide respite from the heat, despite the bedroom windows being fully open.
She lay now on her back, naked save for a pair of plain white cotton panties...her arms flung wide and stretched above her head...her legs apart, one stretched wide to a corner of the bed, seeking any coolness that may be found in the sheets and the other hooked, heel against the knee of the straightened leg. Her body is covered in a fine gloss of perspiration, causing strands of her deep chestnut hair to cling irritatingly to her neck and cheek.
With a heavy sigh of annoyance she sits up and reaches to the bedside cabinet for a hair band that she had noticed there earlier. With practised movements she gathers her hair with one hand, lifts, twists and, with the other hand, expertly fastens her hair to the top of her head. A momentary coolness wafts over the nape of her neck, raising goose bumps along the backs of her arms and over her naked chest.
Looking to the side she catches sight of her reflection in the bedroom mirror, easily but softly illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Instinctively, under her self-critical gaze, she broadens her shoulders and straightens her back, in doing so lifting her breasts and accentuating the roundness of her buttocks. She's pleasantly startled by what she sees. In the unforgiving light of day she is normally quick to find fault in her body. She is uncomfortably aware of the paling of her pallor and the lessening elasticity of her skin. Her obsessive critique would see a drooping of her breasts, a post-childbirth rounding of her stomach and a heaviness to her thighs. But now, in this subtle pale light, her breasts are fashionably full and rounded, her stomach is gently curved and her thighs are athletically firm and lithe. Is the light causing the mirror to tell lies or are the hours of running, swimming and tennis finally paying dividends. Were the compliments he lavished upon her this afternoon evidence of genuine adoration of her beauty, or just the lustful platitudes of a typical man seeking gratification of his sexual desires.
Oh he was genuine, she muses, recalling his soft voice, his gentle touch and his fierce passion! He hasn't fooled me with flattery and well-intentioned deceit, he has simply opened my eyes to what I am...a mature, sexy, beautiful woman!!!