Le Strict Nécessaire
Ink on Arches 300gsm Cold-pressed Watercolour block.
10” X 7”
What is it in a woman that fascinates?
It was 7pm and the booking was not for an hour yet. The place was a place only a few kilometres away. A small place, 2 floors in all with the bottom floor given to a bar. One climbed up a skinny rickety back staircase to get to the restaurant proper.
I had been there before. Creaky floors, a dozen small tables and one could call the ambiance as being “shabby Rustic”. However, the food, in my qualified opinion, is as good as any I have tasted in Italy.
Jean Patou’s Joy Baccarat permeating ghostly through the air. Steam condensed as it cooled down the bathroom mirror. Snow was falling outside. Feathers of soft nothingness melting as they hit the latent heat of a late autumn ground. I turned away from the window and saw 2 dresses laid out on the bed. One knee-length, black, sprinkled with indiscernible white polka dots sporting a conservative neck-line reeking of quiet sophistication; The other shorter still, crimson red, with a revealing plunging neck-line finishing near the navel dramatically exposing enough of the breasts to tempt the imagination.
Red stilettos peeked out from underneath the hem of the one dangling closest to the ground; Patent leather medium heels, black, parked just adjacent on the thick Flokati rug. 2 necklaces lay in an untidy heap. One a black velvet choker, picked by hair from a Craft market when we lived on fresh air and love and that single strand of natural pearls I commissioned for her when price was no object.
I smiled at the knowledge of pending femininity and sensually that dad not diminished over all these years. I can say I love her no less than the first day we met and I know she feels no different.
The hair dryer was screaming, suggesting the time was near for me to get organised. In 10 minutes I returned to the bedroom attired in off-white pleated trousers, white Oxford shirt, a double-breasted Charcoal-grey Blazer, wool scarf and carrying the light Cashmere coat in my arm. Perfectly timed to catch a glimpse of her nudity spare for maroon boy-shorts panties. Arms high she let the crimson dress float airily down her silky skin.
I declare that nothing can compare to the incredibly enticing view of an elegant woman in her bare essentials.
Copyright © Raymond Agius