Sheila lingered at the window. If she had been wearing the flowered dress with its opulent splashes of red and pink and green on white, her slight motion might have attracted an eye from the street below. She loved the dress' flamboyant colors and she loved the way it draped over and camouflaged her more-than-generous curves. When she moved in it she felt like a breeze moving through a jungle, stealthy, pure.
But the dress still lay on her bed and she dwelt petulantly at the window completely undressed. Gratefully, not a scrap pulled at her body in the August evening, and some motion in the air brushed lightly over her skin so that her body gladly drank its coolness. It drew in moisture from the air, and this moisture welled up as tears.
If any eye had strayed from the street below it might have seen her naked form through the white veil of curtain, but she didn't care. The wide, high window dropped to her knees and rose well above her head, framing her. She almost wished someone would see her. It was early evening, and people were beginning to go to their rendezvous at cafes or theaters, clubs or concerts. But Sam had called off again, so Sheila had no one to go with, and she couldn't go alone. They wouldn't have done anything anyway, but at least they would have been out, among people, with music and gaiety, where something might happen!
Sheila had approached the window to look out at the duskystreet, a floor below, to see the people on their way, to taste their anticipation and excitement. She did not think of her nakedness at first, and when she realized that she stood there outlined, she recoiled, but archly pulled herself up again. No one could see her. No one would look up. And she could stand there brazenly and offer herself to the twilight air as if to a lover, her plump breasts rising, her belly feeling the cool night, and her furry mound below curling up as if sniffing. If only something would happen to her.
She rested her hands on the sides of the window frame, relaxed her body, and looked down at the street, curiously now. Who were these people? What were their secrets? Yes, they all had places to go, maybe people to meet; but few were really happy. Behind their looks of interest or care or nonchalance, they all had unmet desires, longings they could not satisfy. They were like her.
If only one of them would look up and see her--! They would be startled. As the outdoor gloaming mixed with the electric room light they would discern her nakedness, and through the shock of that moment they would feel their own nakedness! In a sudden, strange epiphany they would know that their own longing was the longing of the woman in the window, and they would not look away.
