Red Dress

A story that does not seem at all wicked. The prompt this week for Wicked Wednesday was 'Wave'. An obvious response, but the one that came to mind. Click on the badge to find real wickedness. Enjoy. Muse. x

She leaned back from the computer screen and stretched her back. She had barely moved since starting work this morning and she needed a break. Looking down out of her office window across the rain-sodden park she watched people rushing past, all wanting to get to their destination before the deluge resumed. She looked at the women; most in work skirts and heels, dancing around the puddles. umbrella's at the ready. Busy about their humdrum daily lives. As the rain started the rising umbrellas hid the people from view under a sea of black. She almost turned away from the window to resume her work when she noticed the woman in the distance.

The woman had no coat and no umbrella. She was wearing a thin and floaty red dress which was beginning to cling to her body as, heedless of the rain, she walked slowly through the park, high red heels splashing through puddles. The woman's long hair was beginning to cling to her face as it became drenched and yet the woman was smiling. The park became deserted as others ran to cover leaving this woman like a beacon amidst the grey.

Moving closer to the window to get a better view through the rain-spattered glass, she watched the woman's slow progress. It was as though she were being caressed by the rain, as though there were a sensual relationship between the water falling from the sky and this woman's body. She watched as the woman raised her arms, allowing water to run down and soak her completely, welcoming it's touch, enjoying the droplets running over her skin, her face raised to the sky, her eyes closed, lips parted slightly as she stopped and just allowed herself to be enveloped. Something in her posture, her abandon, her sensuous enjoyment of the water, giving herself to the moment and the experience; she was the most erotic thing that park had ever experienced. It felt voyeuristic to be watching her.

And as she watched, smiling herself at the woman's pleasure, the woman opened her eyes and smiled back, waving briefly before slowly continuing through the park.

She sat back at her computer, gazing at the endless tedium of words on the screen. Then she stood from her desk and, leaving her coat and umbrella behind, she made her way out of the building and into the rain.