It was a familiar ritual for women whose husbands made their living on the sea. Constance stood on the balcony outside her bed chamber looking out over the bay for a glimpse of the tall masts of Jacob's ship as it came into harbor, hoping that he would either make port ahead of the gale or that he would be waiting offshore for the storm to pass. Many a widow was made by a foolhardy decision to race the storm in.
Even now the cold mist that was falling dampened the thin white cotton of the gown that she was wearing, causing it to cling to her full breasts. The cold, coupled with the constant breeze immediately causing her nipples to harden. She stood in the face of Poseidon's tempest boldly, nearly as naked as she could as she longed to see the ship making its final turn toward home. If it took her baring herself shamelessly before the sea god to bring her lover back to her bed, so be it.
Flashes of lightning briefly lit up the darkened sky, but none offered her the view she desired. Wantonly, Constance began to caress herself. Just having reached her twenty-fifth year she was a woman with strong needs and because of Jacob's long absences, she was used to fulfilling those desires on her own. Perhaps, she decided, doing so before the lord of the deep would earn her the favor she desired most.
The rage of Poseidon grew more intense as she continued caressing her bosom. Slowly she lifted the gown around her slender waist revealing more and more of her thighs to his gaze. Constance removed the underlinens she had been wearing and tossed them into the wind. She stood with one foot up on the lowest railing allowing a full view of her most intimate parts as she parted her crevice and began caressing herself.
It was then that she felt his arms surround her body. Constance surrendered to his embrace, thankful that her pleadings had been answered. Although she had not heard him come in, he was home.
