Moonlight poured through the ceiling-to-floor window, cutting through the semi-transparent satin nightgown that the Duchess had put on. The moonlight's trajectory ended up on her supple skin. Her every arch, flex, jut, and slit combined into a figure that could easily pierce through every restriction that man had imposed upon themselves in the hopes of being separated from beasts.
Under the moonlight, the belle seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep. When she turned her body, the symbol of her feminity — a woman's most vulnerable secret, her most primitive gift, and her most potent weapon — was left bare to the intruder.
After a while, however, fleeting dark clouds rushed over to block the white moonlight. The latter's rays descended lower and lower into the room until darkness had rendered voyeurism impossible.
That was when the Duchess suddenly opened her eyes.