Firestone Hot Springs mare's milk

the cold in her gaze answers before her tongue does, and her muscles tense with the restraint of not baring teeth.
"you mistake proximity for invitation," she says, steady and firm. she does not rise, nor does she flee, but the way she angles her body—away from his touch, closer to the steam-veiled reeds—makes clear her boundary, "i only came to see if you were breathing. not to roll in your want." 
her gaze flickers between the pair, clever words and salacious laughter rich on the wind. she felt silly for being here, out of place. there is no ceremony in her departure as she steps away.
to the lady, she casts a wry glance, "don't drown him. wouldn't want him to make a habit out of it."
let them have their heat. her fire lies elsewhere.

exit!!