It was hormone hell Saturday. She'd felt it building all week. The time when the gentle streams of chemicals in her blood turned into a raging flood of estrogen, swelling her breasts, swirling her emotions.
After a small bottle of wine, a large chocolate bar (with nuts), a piece of cake, and three Loretta Young movies, Madeleine Woodbridge Harris was still wide awake and edgy. She hit the remote, bringing silence into her cozy living room, crossed the carpet, and looked through the picture window toward the lake. Dousing the lights, she stared at the glistening water reflecting the enormous summer moon.
It beckoned seductively, "Come to me..."
Drumming her fingers on the windowsill, she said out loud, "Jeez, I'm turning into some kind of hormonal she-wolf, drawn by the full moon."
Then again, she thought, a swim might relieve some of the tension, take away the gnawing sadness.
Once outside, she grabbed Grammy's beach quilt that hung on the porch swing next to the back door. Grammy had quilts for all occasions and circumstances, made from every scrap assortment imaginable.
Even now with Grammy gone a year, Maddie could hear that Arkansas twang. "Little sister, things is made to be used. Don't be making my quilts into museum pieces when I'm gone. You make 'em part of your life."
So, hugging the beach quilt, a little tipsy from the wine, she padded across the meadow, a willowy figure seeking relief on a hot Ozark night. Clear lake water lapped the bank, still warm from the long summer day. Hidden spots of paradise dotted these hills she now called home. She'd come from up north during Grammy's last days and never wanted to leave.
Flinging the quilt on the coarse sand, she stripped off her blouse, shorts, and shoes. Her breasts seemed to take on a life of their own, pulsing and swollen. Aching in constriction, she released the bra clasp at her sternum. Ah, free at last. The panties went next and lastly the clip that confined her silky honey blond hair. Tumbling soft curls tangled across white shoulders.
Arms raised, she reached for the moon. Woozy-wine thoughts floated by. Free from clothes, free from rules. Just a few moments of freedom...
The warm evening breeze kissed her skin as she walked to the water's edge. Cool liquid on hot skin. Simmering desire swirled around her like hovering fog on the lake. She was Eve, Lady Godiva, and Delilah all rolled into one. Basic, elemental woman.
The moon smiled at her, whispering again, "Come to me." She sank into the pebbly water seeking the arms of a phantom lover.
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