***
He walked beside a shoulder-high wall of white stone, not quite brushing it with his right elbow. By turning slightly he could have easily seen over the wall or touched the beautiful bas-relief sculpture that lined its inner surface, but he kept his eyes straight ahead and his hands by his sides. The walkway where he paced was up high, probably on the top of a tall building or wall. Glimpses of green countryside spread out below on his right side and on his left was a lower wall with blurry visions of other stonework beyond it. Above, delicate clouds fluffed the bright blue sky. All of these, however, were merely hints of unimportant background in his peripheral vision. Ahead the wall turned a corner, and there sat the object of his attention.
A young woman.
She sat on a bench built as part of the wall itself and so artfully carved that it blended perfectly into the sculptural pattern. Taller than most women, she could rest her elbow on the top of the wall as she looked outward at some distant view. She had twisted her body at the waist so that while he could see her legs and feet, her face and upper body were turned away from him. As he came closer, his eyes saw her flowing dress of soft azure-colored linen. Its skirt was hemmed to cover her knees and his eyes paid special attention to those parts of her legs which were in view. A gentle breeze ruffled her long golden hair. He came to a stop behind her but she kept her face looking outward. Teasing him, he knew.
“You know it’s me back here,” he said.
“It had better be,” she replied as she leaned forward – away from him – and looked down at something closer to the wall. The action pulled up the hem of her skirt a bit and showed him more of her long legs.
“I would ask you to turn around but I like this view,” he told her.
With a soft laugh, she sat up straight and began turning. As she did, her hand brushed back the strands of hair which had fallen over her face, and . . . .