I didn't mean to fall for it.

I was dressed just right--my skirt hugging my hips, blouse soft against my skin, socks pulled high above my loafers. I felt polished. Controlled.

Then I saw the mud.

Dark. Warm. Tempting. It called to me, thick and waiting. I stepped in--slowly. The mud wrapped around my shoes, slipped over my ankles, cold and teasing. My breath hitched.

I kept walking, deeper, until I sank to my knees. The fabric clung. The earth pulled. I let it. I ran my fingers through it, rolled my body in it, every inch of me coated and alive. There was something wicked about the mess, something delicious.

By the time I stood, soaked and filthy, I didn't care who saw me.

I'd never felt so good.