The Tomato Garden

THE GARDEN

She shook the heavy raindrops out of her hair. The dirt was caked around her toes and ankles; the smell of the earth embedded in her clothes. Her hands were wet and dirty, soil wedged deep beneath the nails. She’d almost had the entire garden weeded before it had begun to downpour big, swollen drops of cool rain. She had dashed back to the house. The lightning flashing bright cracks in the deep purple sky above her head as she ran.

She was soaked through to the bone, her t-shirt and shorts plastered to her body. She was standing in a darkening house. The thunderstorm had put her lights out. She fished around in her kitchen until she found a book of matches. Shivering, she scurried around lighting all her corners with candles, chasing the shadows away with the warm, pumpkin-scented glow. It was late August, but the summer was cooling rapidly. She lit a small fire to ward off the chill. She curled up on the terracotta tile in front of the flames and listened to the rain ringing against the windows.

In the dim light, she caught her reflection in the mirror above the mantle. It made her look longer and thinner. She’d always liked that mirror, she mused to herself. She tugged her damp tee shirt up over her breasts and slid out of her shorts. Caramel colored nipples pushed up through the white lace of her bra. She absently brushed them with her fingertips, feeling the pleasing sensation all the way to her toes. She traced the carmine tips, gently easing her breasts free. She admired them in her reflection.

She slid her hands down to where the triangle of hair showed dark through her pale cotton briefs. Her sex was throbbing suddenly and she pressed back at it with her fingertips. She twisted out of her underwear. She watched herself in the mirror. Her skin sparkled in the light from the fire flames. She began to rub and caress her hardening clit until it responded, swelling under her touch. Her body gave in to ribbons of pleasure, bucking and twisting involuntarily. There was a tight, heated sensation in her stomach and a fine sweat working across the surface of her skin. She spent the better part of an hour, pleasing herself over and over again, until her juices had cleansed the soil from her fingernails and her sweat had washed the scent of tomatoes from her body. Her quiet moans swallowed up by the noise of the thunderstorm outside.

Her body seemed to hum like a contented cat as she rocked and curled on the warm floor. It wasn’t always so hard to be alone she had decided. She let her tired body drift off to sleep all the while, wondering when she could start weeding tomorrow and what the weather would be like...