The dark night of the soul is bleached away by first light. Her body shifts, as desire stirs. The pheromones of masculinity pulling her awake. Her every cell starved for contact. She aches to press her lips, nose and hands against his flesh.
Steading herself, she drops a line in the water, remembering when she used to scatter chum. Watching and waiting for the sharks. Their muscular shifting bodies, and gnashing of teeth thrilled her, the bite marks they’d leave, the way they would devour her, toss her like a rag doll. She enjoyed the process of being the thing they’d play with, letting them jostle amongst themselves for a taste of her.
Now she holds herself down, with just one bated line in the quite deep. as she waits for a whale.
