Possibly a touch too naughty to wear inside a church for the christening of her niece, but the comfort of the skirt couldn’t be denied; it was almost like wearing nothing at all. Even so Jamie left before the service was quite complete and wandered across the sunbaked plaza to the balustrade, there to gaze upon the turquoise sea.

The wind was coming up. Soon the sun might be blown away. One boat, a yacht really, anchored in the middle distance, bobbed but slowly, as if nodding off to sleep. The fresh wind pushed the skirt of Jamie’s dress to the side, the breeze skimming Jamie’s exposed sex. Surely no one could see, the plaza this time of day—and with the storm approaching—all but bare. Unless perhaps there was a man on board that boat, that yacht, a pair of strong binoculars at his eyes. Some of that sun glinted off the waves and flashed from the binoculars’ glass. As if in acknowledgement, Jamie moved the silk blouse to the side, letting the now moist wind have a lick at her nipple.

One lick was not nearly enough. Just in time the rain came hard and fast. Soon all would be soaked. Better get on with the day. After all there were letters to write, lovers to fuck, squirrels to wash.