Wilma and Rose and the Rosy-Fingered Dawn
Rose slipped into Wilma’s room, bearing a tray of tea and toast. As she approached, Wilma turned in her sleep. Her bedclothes shifted, and Rose saw that her housemate slept in the nude.
The early morning sunlight outlined Wilma’s exquisite curves. Rose gasped, nearly overcome by her friend’s beauty. Wilma’s most striking feature was also her most unusual. At the small of her back, just above her callipygian derrière was a tail the length of Rose’s middle finger and the width of her thumb.
The tail twitched and swayed in time with Wilma’s breathing. Rather than being grotesque, the tail added a nymph-like quality to her delicate beauty.
Rose placed the tray softly on the bedside table. Her pulse quickened as she approached the bed, overwhelmed with a desire she didn’t understand. Unable to control herself, she placed a gentle kiss on the back of Wilma’s exposed alabaster neck.
Wilma rolled over and stretched, looking for all the world like a newborn goddess. “Good morning,” she said, smiling brightly.