12- Rise From The Lake

Rise From The Lake

 

It is the next evening, just after dark, and there is still some light, with the moon.   He's sitting by the shore hidden amongst the reeds, staring out over the water.   

Then he saw her rise from the lake, like some phantom.   An apparition.

He’d heard a splash, but first saw nothing.   Sensed movement, like a big fish.   Then slowly, first her head, her breasts, and then her belly rose up from the water.  She stood up in the  waist deep water, water pouring from her  hair, which was long, black, and  mattted on her  skin all the way down past her navel.   Her breasts, for she was nude, pointed out through her hair, jutted right out, like two triangular cones, with water rivelets running over them and across their brown centers.   Large strands of purple seaweed hung in her hair and upon her body.   A few small purple, and red, lake-floating flowers hung in this seaweed, and more clung to her hair.

She rose from the lake like a wet dream.   

Looking like she just rose up out of the sea, — the primal Sea-Goddess, seaweed and flowers dripping from her body.    A swamp princess.     A lake nymph.    An undine.

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Her body seemed so slim and fresh.   Like leaves after a spring rain.   

A slender, delicate frame, but it blossomed into wide hips where she met the water.

Her face was smooth and young, her skin butterscotch.  Her large eyes glowed green as cat eyes.

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When her head turned, he saw a giant, red hibiscus blossom fastened above the far ear.   A bright contrast to her dark hair.   Dripping with water, its long pistallate protruded far from the flower, over her forehead, like a penis looking for a mouth. Tomek had read once that in far off Polynesia, maidens would wear a flower in their hair as a sign to men, meaning “I’m ready.   Come for me.”  

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She shook her body hard, like an animal, shaking off the water, sending her hair, and breasts, flying.

She did not see him.   But he clearly recognized her.   It was the lass with the horse, and the flute.   

Her frame was slender, with spindly arms, but her hips, where they met the water, were quite  wide.    And the newly formed fruit of her bosom were set plumply and high.    There was an overall soft roundness to her slimness, as if she were made of cream.

She dived back into the water and immerged again, several times, playfully.   Then she shook off some, but not all, of the seaweed.      She began humming.     

Her mating call.   The same errie chant-song he’d heard the nights before.  

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