Jossy started at the ankle and worked her way up to the knee before starting on the other leg. As she bent over, she was aware of the elastic edges of her costume shifting to reveal more flesh. She squeezed out more cream before rubbing her hands up her thighs, enjoying the slow firm pressure of her palms on the inside of her legs. Now it was her turn to imagine what it would be like to have his hands doing this. Not far above her fingers, a muscle gave a flutter at the thought.
On impulse, she ran a finger inside the fabric of her costume, brushing her pubic hair and making her shiver. She was glad he was all the way over on the other side of the bay. The anticipation was exquisite, something that she would have shattered without a moment's hesitation if he had been here in the room.
She stood, her finger still beneath the fabric and made a show of adjusting her costume. Her engagement ring remained firmly in the draw, safe, and forgotten.
Stepping back out of his view, Jossy went to the bathroom to apply some make up, confident that he would be there watching that empty window for a long time yet. Jossy had big eyes and big hands. Subsequently it was only eye makeup that she applied before she strolled nonchalantly back out into the sunlight, winding her way between the unmoving bodies on the beach, to the sea. The water lapped at her, chilling the flesh as she walked further and further out. As it lapped against the place where she had imagined the man's hands, she began swimming, heading for the other side of the bay, and the glint that still flashed from the villa.
She emerged from the Mediterranean Sea shimmering with adrenaline and teased her way up the winding steps to the top of the cliff, where orange trees encircled the villa. She wondered what sort of reception she would get from the man. He must have realised by now that she was coming over. The heavy olive-wood door to the villa was ajar and one of the pieces of card had a message added to it. *Come straight through the house to the garden (I knew you'd come).*
She considered spiting herself to make him regret adding that last bit to his message, but instead walked straight through the cool corridor in the middle of the house onto a freshly painted veranda at the rear, where she found a small pile of clothes and another note. *You can leave your costume here. I have pens if we want to talk.*
She hesitated, it was funny, but this little piece of wet fabric made her feel confident and sexy, lifting and minimising all the right places. Without her costume, it was just her. But she had not swum across the bay to retreat now, so she slipped off her suit and stepped onto the close cut grass. The garden was a mist of roses and ripe oranges, the scent wafting around her. Ripe as they were, she left the oranges alone – she was after different fruit.
Rose petals brushed against her as she wound her way through them, to find him in a secluded sun trap, lying naked on the grass, like the prize in the centre of a maze.
'Hi.' He said with a smile. 'I thought you said you weren't coming.'
