No sex. No stimulation. Just watch. Just wash. I want to see her bathe, moving her body inside the frothy liquid while it lightly touches her skin and swirls around it. I want to enjoy it moving around her curves. When she lifts an arm, I want to see the water running off it, leaving a glossy sheen behind that turns into satin a second later.
I want to see that.
Her legs too. I want to see those. They are just gorgeous. Look at them. Just look. See how those suds hug them delicately? Does she know just how much I want to be bubbles, the water and the sheen on her sensuous skin?
A flush of pink rises in her flesh as the water warms it. Small droplets form on her face. She reaches for the soap and knows I'm looking on while she stretches forward.
Nice.
I like how the steam mattes her hair — a casual look that says that she's free. She closes her eyes to draw in that feeling and somehow I feel it too. This is the kind of synergy that well-tuned lovers know well. There'll be a time when her bathing will end and all of these visions will dry up, dress and leave the room — but not now. This is my time, her bath, our pleasure.
Does she know how thrilling this simple act is? Can she tell by how I stare at it how many dreams she is fulfilling? I could tell her how I feel about it as I see it, but that'd spoil these moments. I want her to perform without knowing that she's putting on a performance. I need to see her be free and safe in her way. There's something so visceral about this silent observation that I dare not say a word about it. Speaking would steal its essence. I've already said enough by being here, watching her. Nothing more needs to be spoken.
She asks me if I enjoy watching her bathe. Perfect timing, my darling. I was just thinking about that... she raises an eyebrow and waits for me to respond and part my lips.
Really? An answer? I want to watch. Speaking wasn't part of the—
She doesn't wait for one to come. She levels her eyes, grins and turns onto her side instead. She didn't want a reply at all. She wanted a reaction. Bitch! She got one. She knows me well. Cunning fox. You tease me, bad girl. You beat me at this game. Next time I won't be so obvious and you'll have to work harder for it.
For now, I'll silently congratulate and thank you — just sit here and watch you bathe, appreciating your naughty charm and exquisite femininity without saying a word.
-Michael Forman (Author of dark, adult, slightly erotic fiction.)
