It was a soft night. A light breeze rubbed velvet air on his skin. The night called for swimming naked in the pond, under a full moon. But there was no pond. Only surf pounding against rocks, the crash of waves jarring the balminess of the night.
He stood at the edge of foamy water that lapped at his feet then pulled away, dragging sand along. He curled his toes, but could not hold the sand.
Out of reach of the waves, she waited, sky-clad under the half moon. Yet he stood without thinking, only feeling the softness of the night and the hardness of waves crashing in their ageless rhythm.
Finally, he joined her. Soft and hard, making a steamy, sultry summer night.