There was something about the lake that day, something about the way the light made it glitter. I wanted to go in.When I did, I couldn't feel the wate... at all. It was the same temperature as the air--but that wasn't it. I could only feel the line of the surface as it rose over my hips, my breasts, my neck. Then, I was under.Once I was underwater, there was no going back. It was cool and refreshing. I suddenly realized that I had been overheating all day and now I could relax. I swam down deeper. Some of the notes have formed a bar sash that has slipped around her waist. Say, some of those naughty notes have made a chord and slipped over her bottom playing on her robust cheeks. She feels no impulse to push them away.Mrs. M steps onto the balcony. Notes, visible to us voyeurs of the imagination, have encircled her and caress her. She seats herself on a chaise and reclines, knees drawn up and apart. Notes swirl around her gently touching and fondling her flushed cheeks; a chord lingers at. More

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