Archive-name: SpecMome/coolbath.txt

Archive-author: Darren Toop

Archive-title: Hot Days, Cool Baths





>   Wed May 12, 1993   16:35 



>.... well it is 32C out there today....

>sweaty. sweltering. heat.....

>

>And me riding my bike home in this.  (ick).

>

>Keep an eye out for me, will you?  And come on over, later.



+ + +



It is 5:30 and through binoculars I see her toiling up the long grade 

through the sage brush, the sweat like a sheen on her shoulders and 

legs, forming wet patches on her cotton overshirt.  Her cycling pants 

are black, so it is impossible to see the damp that surely plasters them 

to her straining thighs and hips.  She pulls up to the house across the

way, and I slip on my headphones.  Modern electronics is wonderful.  So

many ways to keep in touch.



+ + +



They are talking inconsequential things.  Well, he's talking and she's 

eating pasta salad and sipping a long cool drink.  After she's taken the 

edge off her hunger and thirst, there's a bath waiting.....  



The bathroom is dark, the water cool but not too cold, and perfumed with 

a heady bath oil to keep skin soft.  In the sunny hallway, she slips out 

of the sweaty cycling clothes and kicks them into the bedroom.  She 

steps out of sight into the darkened bathroom, and slides into the water, 

relaxing, letting the ripples wash around her chin.  There is just the 

sound of a slow hollow drip of water, a deep sigh and gentle breathing 

when someone is leaning over with a wash cloth.  



"Here give me your hand, and I'll wash it for you.... Now the other 

hand..... Feet now.... oh, a bit ticklish, okay. no problem.  and your 

legs, mmmmm hard muscles, you've really toned up over the summer!  Lean 

forward and I'll do your back."



There is the sound of skin squeaking on the tub as she raises herself 

out of the water and leans forward.  The tiny sounds of skin on skin as 

she clutches her knees.  The water splashes gently and the sensitive 

electronics pick up the rubbing sound of a rough washcloth on skin. 



"Okay, now the other parts..... Right up on your hands and knees."

More squeaking and hard breathing, the sounds of water droplets sliding 

off her breasts and hitting the surface of the water.   The wash cloth is 

being soaped up again, and the soap makes a dull thump on the bottom of 

the tub.



Now I hear the sounds of soap being applied to the buttocks and thighs,

then the regular sounds of it being massaged into the skin and hair.  

More soaping and splashing of the first rinse.  



"Mmmmmm, poor tender bum sitting on that hard seat,  how does that 

feel?"  There is a kind of strangulated cry, and then deep breath 

hissing through her nose.  "You really must be clean, you know."   and I 

think I hear the soft sounds of fingers soothing soap into all the nooks 

and crannies.  



There is sound of more clothes being removed, and a second body enters 

the water.  "No, stay like that."  A bit of splashing then the sound of 

soapy fingers and gentle breathing.  "Be still now, or I must slap you 

to make you behave."  A raising up in the water is followed by a sudden 

wild sound and a grunt of satisfaction.  



"When fingers just aren't long enough, something else must be found."  

There is a long slow squishing sound, and the sounds of only one person 

heavy breathing.  A high keening is added to the sensuous aquatic 

symphony, and then all is still save the drip of the water and the 

shallow gasps.  The same long squishing sound comes again then a plop 

and grunt.  



More vigorous splashings and humming sound.  A deep chuckle, "I do swear 

you liked that cleaning.  Sit back on your heels."



Presently the splashing abates, and there is the unmistakable squeaking 

of hands on hair, as the long wet strands are gathered up and gripped.  

A lid pops, and shampoo squirts thickly and the head is lathered gently.  

The tap squeaks and I am already reaching for the volume as the thunder 

of spray fills my ears.  Water sprays on foam and hair and skin and in 

the background the plug pops.  The water gurgles down the drain and the 

plug is reinserted.  



The water level rises slowly and as the bath-essence is added, the 

bubbles rise gently.



He appears at the door, his prong waving undiminished in front, his 

hair wet and matted against his muscular thighs, his expression a bit 

haggard.



"Why don't you relax there for a while, then come out and I'll put some 

talcum powder on you.  Have you babied up in no time... Another drink??"



--

comments & criticisms gratefully appreciated.  

Darren Toop    rascal@bnr.ca