The Tower

Breathing a heavy sigh, Don looked toward the dune where Hank’s beach access would be. The shining lights from the house illuminated part of the porch and gravel driveway below. He watched a figure cross the large plate glass window--Estelle. She wore only a tee shirt covering her torso, her long legs, bare and strong strode across the room. Moving to the window she pressed her body against it—her limbs spread askew, her breasts pushed against the glass. Her head tilted back, the thick long hair cascading past her shoulders. Don watched as her fists beat the thick hurricane glass of the window, her mouth open in laughter. And then he saw her look his way, her eyes steeled, seeming to look straight at him. He ducked low into a dune. “No way she knows I’m here.”