I had been hunting all day long and caught nothing. Even my traps were empty. The sun had beaten me relentlessly. There had not even been a mouse in sight. And now I was close to my block hut at an isolated lake in the middle of nowhere. I had been ready to cuss this day. This was not vacation, this was torture. I saw glimpses of the lake at which our hut was built. I decided to undress and take a refreshing swim. For my body was sweating profusely.
Then I heard a soft singing, carried to me by a breeze from the lake. I recognized the voice and smiled. The tension fled from my tired muscles at the aria and I proceeded to free myself from my sticking clothes. With only my boxer shorts on I went into the direction the voice was coming from. As I approached the lake I could see through the leaves white stripes of comeliness arising from the water. Somehow I looked back over my shoulder and witnessed a lone eagle somewhere lifted up by thermal draft and then swooping down on its prey. Then I bent the bushes and was taken in by a scene of exquisite beauty. I was flabbergasted. My wife was lathering herself with slow and languishing movements and singing her heart out. No stitch of clothing hindered the sight. My heart skipped a beat and I halted my pace, taking in this picture so as never to forget it. Even across the lake gazelles were drinking and many birds were chirping; a lovely orchestra.
She was standing with her back towards me. Her waist long blond hair graced her stature. And as she let go of the notes of her self-made aria, her body moved with the cadence of the music exposing a glimpse of her left breast. And as she reached the highest pitch of her alto voice, she lifted her arms towards the sky. Then she bent over to scoop water to rinse the body lotion off. That was my cue to action. I went on, but a twig sounded below my foot as it was broken and she turned to look. And when she was half turned towards me, I made the hush sign and as her head was bent forward with her golden locks as a veil half over her face, she beckoned me with playful eyes, moving her index finger slowly but surely while smiling like a naughty teenager.
The breeze that was blowing swelled into a wind that played with her hair. She erected herself as the sun set behind her and posed for me with perfect poise. A vision of loveliness! With her hair in one hand she looks invitingly and hauntingly, the silhouette of a Greek goddess. Mysterious beauty at its best. The wind gathers pace and I make my way through the water towards this lovely lady with skin as if of a lightly bronzed statue. My wife, my Venus!
The wind becomes stronger and the waves start stirring forming little crests that dissolve against the rocks, but I only have eyes on my luck. The fish scurry away as I take her into my arms and she willingly submits to my caresses. Gone is the frustration of a troubling day, gone are all my fears and worries and even gone is the pain in my back. We make it to the sandy beach and become drunk with love. Then the jewel is in the lotus . . . The wind is still swelling and a soft cushion of rain falls down, but we are protected by a few large oaks that shield us. The fish hide behind the rocks and the gazelles turn towards the forest. The waves grow and reach our feet. And as I dig my hands into the sand and my wife digs hers into my back, a flash of lightning cracks through the sky.
We hurry into our cabin and as I light a fire my wife prepares one of my favorite dishes. We drink French wine and laugh at the weather. My wife lights candles and burns incense. I turn on classical music. Then we are at it again! And while the sounds of Beethoven's Moon Light sonata come to a crescendo the storm outside lets go of its last salvo and subsides. Stars appear twinkling in the sky as we rest from our dallying. The waves recede and ebb away and the fish come out of their hiding places, nibble at each other and are satisfied, deeply satisfied.