Woman in Black

I saw her standing on the terrace, in the sun, looking out into the distance.
I walked up behind her and lightly stroked the back of her arm.
“Are you ok honey?” I asked
“No not really” she replied and the tears welled up in her eyes as she turned towards me, so I took her in my arms and she dissolved completely into tears.
“Its ok honey” I whispered, “let it all go”
And as she sobbed uncontrollably into my chest I kissed the top of her head.
I held her close and stroked her back until she lifted her head and said
“I’m getting you shirt wet”
“I don’t care” I replied and she broke down again which was when, to my eternal shame, I got aroused.
I would like to say in my defense that I was holding in my arms a very beautiful woman, and a woman I had not only lusted after for more than five years but had been in love with for four of those years.
What I can’t offer any excuse for was what I was thinking as she sobbed her heart out and I consoled her with my empty words.
I was trying to imagine what she was wearing under her mourning clothes and my arousal was reaching epic proportions as I considered all the various options and I was so close to tipping my barrow.
I don’t know what would have happened had her mother not come along when she did.
Her mum took her back inside to grieve more privately but I remained on the terrace for a few minutes due to an inability to walk.
The inability wasn’t aided in any way by the fact that I still continued to think long and hard about the infinite possibilities of what she might be wearing beneath her widow’s weeds.