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