to flirt with a spirit free

 It was in the shape, the curve...it knew to hold him fascinated for hours on end. A woman walking by dressed to enhance her feminine lines. Lines lean, lines buxom, lines full and voluptuous.

Nothing more beautiful than the way a woman knows to move , knows to beckon with the curve of her ankle, the crossing of her knee...a wrist relaxed, a hand resting lightly, moving up and down the length of a thigh, unaware of how sensuous the travel of her hand... an action so natural.

He loved to sit and watch the ritual of undress, the unhurried tease of clothes discarded...the anticipation of what may be hidden from his gaze.

At times, the starkness of a naked body jolting his senses for, the shadows cast across a tummy, thighs milky...breasts rich in their natural shape...a slight droop further emphasising lines of a body beautiful, had him hardening, growing the full length of his manliness....instantaneously.

Then those times...under garments loose, falling to the floor, crumpled at her stockinged feet, suspenders, garters, the tiniest of little panties, breasts exposed, knew to take his breath away...again...an erection of note...instantaneous.

It was all in the shape of a woman...a woman who loved herself and dared to laugh freely, flirt with a spirit teasing, inviting...a woman who knew to make him feel like a king.

And, thus, he sat back and picked up his pencil and proceeded to sketch that which lay before him...RB.