The chubby figures of grinning cherubs carved round the dark oak frame flickered as the light from the three brass oil lamps played over them. The yellow light also threw shadows across her body. Highlighting the firm breasts, and the peaking nipples, erect in the cold air. She half-closed her hooded eyes, admiring herself, appraising what little damage time had done to her. Smoothing her fingers over the flat stomach, stroking the silken mat of hair in the pit of shadow at the junction of her thighs. Half-turning, tightening her gluteal muscles, watching her buttocks in the mirror. Deciding that she would still be considered a desirable and attractive woman. It had been a long time, she remembered, letting her fingers roam absently, pretending that they did it without her agreement. Licking her lips, and tossing the light blonde curls. Perhaps it might be time, after this winter was finished, to move back out of the hills to the coast. Re-enter society in San Francisco and perhaps even marry again.
