<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/ead50d92-e6d4-4afe-9e1d-01d97ff4c453_zps41859843.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Isobel Harley Montoya-Marquez<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown to the public<br/><strong>Date:</strong>April 27th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Late Night<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Agatha Dunwich's back porch<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Agatha<hr/>What had begun as a risk borne simply of what she viewed as a practical need had quickly morphed into something bordering on selfish indulgence. Something in the back of her mind was urging her to be quick about her task so she could move on but for the life of her Harley could not seem to to call to mind the common sense she so often wielded. Not while warm water cascaded over smooth and supple curves almost like the touch of a lover, taunting her with the lightest of caresses that seemed to only flirt with her building need without doing a single thing to ease it. It was the sort of attention Harley had not received in quite a long time. Out in the Maze one could forget such pleasures if they wished, but here, under night sky with only the stars and the moon to witness, it was an easy thing to simply close ones eyes and let the yearning overtake you.<br/><br/>She should have been listening, should have been alert to weight of the unfamiliar presence at her back, but before she knew what she was doing her hands were moving. Hands that were finely sculpted with long, lean and dexterous fingers, almost like those of an artist or musician, yet instead of being soft and delicate they had gone rough with a life of rugged living and possessed an almost deceptive strength. Those hands played over her body, stripping away any illusions and leaving not a single doubt as to her femininity as her sex pulsed, demanding attention.<br/><br/>Her hands had just slipped over the lush mounds of her breasts, the brush across her budded nipples sending a shiver down her spine, and were sliding down the flat plane of her torso when she heard it. The creak of the board at that moment was as loud as any gunshot and there was a brief moment of pause. Others might have wasted time cursing themselves or panicking but Harley was instantly past all that and on to considering and subsequently discarding her options. She had no idea who's place this was and therefore no real idea of how to even begin with such an encounter so all within the space of moment Harley made the decision to simply turn around and face whatever fate had chosen to throw at her.<br/><br/>Slowly the long limbed woman turned, leaving her body silhouetted there under the warm spray as she looked upon her audience from beneath lids gone heavy with lust and something sparked in her gaze. Her nipples tightened until they nearly ached and her lips parted as her breath eased out, the rise and fall of her chest growing deeper as the seconds ticked by. There was no shyness in her or attempt at modesty on her part and if she didn't know any better she'd have thought the redhead a gift meant just for her with the way she looked standing there like something out of one of them fancy European paintings.<br/><br/>One might have thought that the appearance of a pale, ginger-haired goddess who seemed to have been birthed from the very night itself might have brought with it a sense of relief but if anything, Harley only felt her body wind tighter. Tension sang through her, mounting slowly as her dark eyes took in every bared inch she could drink in from those gorgeous breasts to the coppery thatch at the apex of her smooth thighs and the lanky gunner's fingertips all but itched to reach out and trace those lovely curves if only just to be sure that what she was seeing was real.<br/><br/>She could could have spoken, asked any number of questions of her unwitting hostess or attempted to talk her way out of what should have been an awkward situation, but she did not. Instead, as Harley had already process the fact that the woman before her was just as nude as she was and clutching a bar of soap to boot, not to mention the visible evidence of her arousal, she simply allowed a trace of a smile to curve her lips before her hands began to move again, sliding across her dusky skin with deliberate movements. With devious intent she turned back around seemingly to continue bathing while her hands moved steadily lower and a look of clear and wholly unmistakable invitation was issued over her shoulder. She understood that she was inviting the woman to her own shower but rationality--and possibly sanity considering she had just deliberately given a stranger her back--had receded under the growing desire filling her. If the woman did come closer, Harley had no doubt her shower would move beyond simple decadence to full out indecency.