“We stood and looked at each other as we rubbed ourselves dry. He was well proportioned, natuarally of handsome physique, heavily limbed. He laughed at me, telling me I was like one of Audrey Beardsley’s long, lean ugly fellows. I referred to him to many classic examples of slenderness, declaring myself more exquisite than his grossness, which amused him.
But I had to give in, and bow to him, and he took on an indulgent, gentle manner. I laughed and submitted. For he knew how I admired the noble, white fruitfulness of his form. As I watched him, he stood in white relief against the mass of green. He polished his arm, holding it out straight and solid; he rubbed his hair into curls, while I watched the deep muscles of his shoulders, and the bands stand out in this neck as he held it firm; I remember the story of Annable.
He saw I had forgotten to continue my rubbing, and laughing he took hold of me and began to rub me briskly, as if I were a child, or rather, a woman he loved and did not fear. I left myself quite limply in his hands, and, to get a better grip of me, he put his arm round me and pressed me against him, and the sweetness of the touch of our naked bodies one against the other was superb. It satisfied in some measure the vague, indecipherable yearning of my soul; and it was the same with him. When he had rubbed me all warm, he let me go, and we looked at each other with eyes of still laughter, and our love was perfect for a moment, and more perfect than any love I have known since, either for man or woman.”