Midnight Bath

She stood in the darkness under the moon, her location lit only by a single lantern. Her dark hair and light garments were wrapped in ebony shadow, shades of gray and warm, flickering touches of warm highlights as she stood there. Overhead, a breeze sighed through the tree branches; somewhere a frog croaked. The scent of jasmine drifted on the evening breeze. None of these things disturbed her sense of calm: here, for this minute, the night was hers.

One graceful foot and then another slipped out of her sandals. Next, with the softest rustling, a sash fluttered to the ground, followed by the soft cotton sliding off her skin to gather at her ankles in gentle folds. She stretched, lifting long fingered hands up towards the moon, allowing the dark and light to touch the curves of her skin, the roll of her hip, the line of her breast like the hand of a lover before she stepped forward, one footfall at a time, towards the pool of water ahead of her.

She slipped into the water, the darkness highlighted with diamonds of moonlight, lapping her thighs. Bending over, she cupped some water in her hands, raised it to her neck, and let it pour down across her skin. It pearled as it went down, catching highlights from the lamplight, accentuating the rise and fall of her breasts, the soft curve of her tummy.

"See?" said warm voice, masculine and amused. "I told you the water wasn't too cold. "

She bent over one more time for water. This time, she splashed him.