1. undressing her soul {an introduction}

    She stepped out onto the wide expanse of concrete sidewalk bordering the city street. It was busy in the late-afternoon sun and she was anxious to be home but she paused and let the empty flow of the crowd move around her long enough for three deep centering belly breaths and one long sigh.

    God, she thought, this has got to be the most exhausting, loneliest job ever. Being, literally, a window dressing paid very well but it was so much more magnificently harder than any other modelling job she’d ever had. 

    It wasn’t even the prolonged stillness that got to her, although she could feel the tension twitching in each muscle under her skin as she stood there breathing in the street. The hardest part was the overwhelming sense of invisibility. Yes, people had their eyes on her all day - a lot of them and most admiringly so - but even the ones who tried to catch her eye, to distract her, to startle her into breaking pose didn’t see her. None of them ever really saw her, she thought. She spent seven hours a day being stared at in what felt like completely invisible isolation. 

    Now she had just over four hours left to get out of the city and home to her hammock on the hill where she was hoping to enjoy a gorgeous, if solitary, sunset. Two more hours of blank anonymous eyes still lay between her and her secret hiding place, however. But I can make it, she thought to herself, as she stepped onto the train. Get through this and it’s just a short car ride, maybe a quick stop for a bottle of wine and then a hike through the cemetery and across the field. Then I’ll be there. 

    She closed her eyes and and let her mind drift with the hypnotic tracks thumping underneath her. She listened to every cell of her body within each breath and felt, physically, her soul swelling, alive inside her.

    Her secret spot was not on property she owned - thank heavens, she thought as she climbed up the hill, thighs and calves still twitching with fatigue. She’d spoken to the farmer who owned the field beyond the collection of headstones and he gave her permission to bolt her double-wide hammock between to trees facing west on the ridge. 

    As she made the crest and saw her sturdy little nest she let a smile escape her and plopped down sideways into the worn expanse of rough red burlap. Reclining sidesaddle this way, she could use her feet to swing and stretch her toes out just beyond the hill. She was just in time for the glorious sunset. 

    Gold and orange, purples melting to crimson just before dusk lulled her and she drifted off, waking from her sunset nap to darkness and the bright moon shining from behind her, through the trees and onto the graves and field below. And then she realized he was there. 

    She saw him, felt him just before he reached out toward her feet. She opened her mouth to speak but he put a finger to his own lips before shushing her with soft, almost whispered words. 

    "I see you," he sighed. "My eyes can’t get enough of your feast. Let my body help me? I want to swallow all of you so tenderly."

    Then he reached up with strong hands and gently slipped her shoes from her feet…

    (working on a smutty collab with crazy-clementine and this is an introduction - more from both sides of the equation, coming soon…)  :D awkwardness!

     
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