The Rescue at the River’s Edge
The morning mist clung to the riverbank as Pope walked along the quay. His solitude was broken by the sight of a man struggling with a limp, naked form tangled in an anchor chain. Together, they hauled the body onto the deck of a barge. The stranger, breathless and hurried, told Pope to wait while he fetched the police, then sprinted away toward the stone steps of the embankment.
As the sun crested the horizon, it bathed the woman in a golden glow. She was breathtaking, her long dark hair clinging to her shoulders and her full, rounded breasts heaving with a faint, erratic rhythm. Pope had never seen such beauty. He reached out, finding her skin still warm. In a surge of sudden, overwhelming passion, he leaned down, kissing her lips and tasting the river water that lingered there. He felt a desperate need to breathe life back into her, his lips traveling from her mouth to the curve of her neck, his touch sparking a fire that defied the cold morning air.