When the sun goes down

Hannah likes the garden at dusk, the air still warm from another long Mediterranean day. She settles into a chair with a glass of sweet white and lets the evening settle around her. The sunset paints the horizon orange, but tonight that heat sits lower, deeper. She puts the glass aside, stands, and peels off her dress, then her bra, then her underwear, until nothing is left between her skin and the cooling breeze. With the last strip of light across the pool, she stretches out on a lounge and slides her hand between her thighs. Fingers move slowly at first, circling, pressing, parting. Her head tips back. A soft sound escapes her. She keeps going, hips lifting, rhythm quickening, chasing the rush until it breaks through her in tight waves. Alone with the dark and the quiet, she rides every pulse to the end.