I felt light and graceful in the water, the warm afternoon sun shining down on my face, my creamy neck and shoulders, and the tops of my breasts. Looking down, I wished I could touch my nipples: my whole body felt in need of a good stroking, of a more delicious release. But I was here alone, as always, and in the pool with me were the usual clusters of couples, looking deep into each other’s eyes as they smiled and chatted in low voices. The warm pool was the social pool; it was OK to talk softly here. In the hot pool next door silence reigned, and beyond that the little cold plunge was even more serene, and usually empty. I could sit there for as long as I liked and look at the trees, breathe the fresh country air and meditate. But what I wanted this evening was something more carnal, I was beginning to realize. I looked boldly at the women and men entering the pool. They all had what society deemed gorgeous bodies, tanned, brown, lithe. My own build was voluptuous and my skin tone was pale, though the sun and the massage had brought a deep healthy flush to my face.
