She turns on the water and tips the bottle of bubble bath. The syrup flows a slow stream out the end of the bottle and slides into the steaming liquid. The bubbles swell and fill the tub.
Returning to the stereo she picks a CD and hits play. James Blunt will be the man of the hour to serenade her in her sensuous delight. "All The Lost Souls" seems somehow fitting tonight and having felt the urgency in some of his songs and the wanton plea in others she believes him to be the perfect choice for tonight.
The cupboard is opened and she reaches for a larger than necessary wine glass, the romantic one she likes to use for a long soak, an indulgence designed solely for herself.
Striking the wooden match on the side of the box, 2 candles are lit; one for the counter and the other open flame to dazzle and dance on the edge of the tub. The glow is enough to light her way as her eyes quickly adjust. Pupils growing wider, breath growing slower, anticipation wets her.
Placing the glass of white wine in the corner edge of the tub she lets her satin robe fall to the floor. The white fabric puddles on the rich brown tile as she steps from its folds and into the soft awaiting bubbles that fill the tub to the brim. She slowly lowers herself into the billowing cushion and feels the searing heat torch her skin. She knows the heat will dissipate so she tolerates the almost too hot water in the beginning.
The bubbles are full around her womanly curves, engulfing her, tickling her skin as they break in movement. She sinks in fully, releasing a long relaxing sigh. Her eyes twinkle in the dancing candle light as it bounces off the bubbles and the shiny walls of the tub. Sipping the chilled wine her body finds relief from the hot water. Slipping it down her throat and resting the cool glass on her dampened breast.
As she slides and rolls in the water the bubbles weaken and break. The flickering flame exposes glistening skin as it is visible through the openings in the bubbled shell. A raised leg, the soft mound of a breast, the ***** of a shoulder, the curl of a lock of hair silhouette in the candle light. Knees bent she pulls herself toward the end of the tub and gently smiles as the water caresses her skin while she pushes away. She runs her hands over her body, silky from the bubble bath but her hottest parts slippery of their own accord. Wet before but more wet now.
She hears a slight sound and turns to the door. He is standing there, silently watching her. How long has he been there? What had his gaze enjoyed? Not that it isn't ultimately all his to enjoy anyway. But now that he is there she shall play out her private time to his audience. He loves how she is confident in her own sexuality, how she finds enjoyment with the body she has been given and how she freely gives it to him. It is moments like these that he could explode for her in lust but hangs on not wanting the magic to end.
He steps to the tub and hands her the glass with the last sip of wine, watching as it cools her and slides down her throat. He holds the over sized bath sheet open for her and she steps from the tub. Folding her in the soft cotton he wicks away just enough of the water to stop her from dripping. A breeze coming in the window skims her damp skin and her ******* harden, fully *****.
She is about to get ***** all over again. It's a good thing she is washable.