The French wife, a natural redhead, stands at the edge of the woods, her heart pounding with desire for her husband. She whispers her wanton thoughts to the wind, her hands tangling in the long grass as she envisions him there, his rough hands pulling her close, his lips capturing hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. She imagines him laying her down on the soft moss, his body covering hers, his hardness pressing against her, as they lose themselves in the throes of passion, the forest around them a symphony of life and love.