The Bubble Bath I
Rub A Dub Dub…
He pushes his sweats off, walks out of the bedroom, smiling at me as he goes by, comes back with the black box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hands. He doesn’t look at me but stops at the multiple switch controller on the wall, turns off the switch for the television and the room goes black. A few more flips of some of the switches that we haven’t tried yet and he finds one that turns on a red spot light above the tub. It’s a heater, but illuminates this awesome reddish glow over the bubbles. A very sexy glow.
He smiles, then walks back to the tub, sets the condom box and the lube on the ledge, checks the temperature of the water then climbs in, easing himself in slowly, putting on a big show. The tub’s about half full now. I groan, despite myself. I don’t think I can move because I still haven’t.
“You coming?” he asks shaking me from my daze and reminding me what was happening just before I zoned out.
I furrow my eyebrows. “Brian, I was trying to seduce you. Remember, you said if I was….”
He interrupts me as usual. “Didn’t you tell me when I took you to the baths the first time that you were disappointed?”
“Yeah,” I answer with big grin on my face, realizing now, the point to his sudden bath urges and loving the fact that he remembered. I climb off the bed and take off my shirt.
“Well,” he smirks and pulls his lips in. I push my shorts off and kick them across the room. “You can feel lucky in here.”
Have I said how much I love this man?
“Music?” I ask him heading to the electronic gadget cabinet.
“Yeah, something … oh, I don’t care, you pick. But none of that …”
“I know, I know,” I say cutting him off for a change. He wants mood music, but no violins. Amazingly enough that can actually be difficult sometimes. Who knew there were so many violins used on soft or romantic type music? I had never paid attention to it before but now, every time I step into an elevator, I hear Brian’s words echo in my ears … ‘and you are never to play violin music in my presence again’ and then I close my eyes and see the look on his face projected on the back of my eyelids. The slightly smug-ish grin, the arched eyebrow and the unmistakably real pain in his eyes. And every time, the lump that formed in my throat that night in his office, the one that caused me to only be able to mutter my promise with a whisper, forms again and I have to swallow it away.
I look over at him, slunk back in the tub, bubbles building all around him and I wonder if that’s why he insisted that my mother find him office space in a one-story building or if not one-story, then space on the ground floor… no elevators to deal with. He opens one eye sensing I’m staring at him.
“What?”
I smile, “Nothing.”
“Then hurry the fuck up.”
I huff at him. The music console is labeled by style of music. Rock, opera, country … I select romance and Luther Vandross begins bellowing out of the surround sound speakers. I adjust the volume to a comfortable level and start closing the cabinet door.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Could you be more lesbianic?”
My lips curl up a bit. “Ahhh, come on. It’s romantic.”
He’s shaking his head. “Well, I can’t fuck to that shit. You want my dick to go soft?”
“Umm, Brian, since I’ll be doing the fucking, I don’t know that it matters what ‘your’ dick can or can’t do. Mine is perfectly capable of maintaining itself to Luther.”
“Yeah well, your laissez-faire dick could fuck to chopsticks, mine, on the other hand, has taste.”
“Taste’s good,” I crow, wiggling my eyebrows at him and licking my lips. “Mmm, mmm.”
He laughs. “Just change the fucking channel.”
“Grumpy,” I mumble under my breath.
“I heard that, Dopey!”
“More like Happy,” I grin big, stroking myself back to life. He pulls his lips in watching my exhibition.
“Certainly can’t be mistaken as Bashful. However…” He holds up one hand with his index finger pointing straight up as if he just had this new thought. “…pale skin and all, you could pass for Snow White herself.” He pauses and puts his hand down; my hand seems to make its way to my hip. Then he adds as almost an afterthought. “She was a big time slut.”
My mouth drops open and my hip jets out to the side. It’s almost sacrilegious to call a children’s fairy-tale heroine a slut! “She was not!” I yell back at him to defend Snow White’s virtue … a little higher in pitch than intended. That tends to happen when I get bubbly so I close my mouth, clear my throat and give him a stern ‘I’m not pleased with your attitude’ glare.
He turns to look at me then ‘pfffts’ between his teeth, laughing at me. I look down and notice my stance. Christ, why do I do that? I straighten up quickly. “Hey! And neither am I!” I quickly add, realizing he’d compared me to her just before he called her a slut.
He laughs again. “She was too! Hello? She lived with seven horny old men, all short, ugly and with a variety of personality disorders. They probably hadn’t been laid in like, well… never! Of course she was a slut.”
Okay, point taken there. I furrow my eyebrows. “Hmmm, maybe. But I don’t; I live with just ONE!” He shoots me a glare. Ha! “Besides, she had black hair and I’m a blond. AND I’m NOT a girl!” Then I show him my Snow-Whitey white dick with a slight pink hue just to remind him of that fact by holding it with one hand off to the side and waving my other hand in front of it like it’s the next prize up for bidding on The Price is Right.
He growls, “Mmm. All this talk of horny old men and sluts and displays of your manhood is making me hard.” His hand disappears into the sea of bubbles and I stroke myself just a little more.
“You’re such a perv.”
“And you’re wasting time. Are you gonna fix the music and get in here with me or what?”
“I’m gonna get in there with you and I’ll change the channel, but I’m pushing the ‘Easy Listening’ button and no matter what’s playing, that’s what we’re listening to. Got it?”
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.
So I push the ‘easy listening’ button and a slow ballad engulfs the room. It’s a mixture of male voices singing something about rain. The Temptations, I think, I’m not really sure, but that’s what we’re going with. I’m tired of standing out here and would much rather be in there with him. Besides, it’s just background.
I stalk in his direction like a predator. He’s watching me. I love when he watches … his eyes get glazed over and darken. They’re dripping with lust. But there’s a gleam underneath that’s only there when he’s watching me come to him. I’ve seen his ‘I want to fuck you’ look when he’s on the hunt at Babylon, but that’s all it is. Behind it, it’s empty. This look is different. It’s just for me. I can feel his gaze on every inch of my body, like a heated blanket. It makes me warm all over.
I climb up the steps of the tub and just as I’m about to maneuver in between his legs, he leans forward and scoots to the center. I put my hand on his shoulder and get in behind him. I ease down into the water putting one leg on each side of him then lean back. The porcelain is cold on my back and makes me hiss. I touch his shoulders, pulling him back to me and he rests his head in the crook of my neck.
The tub is already full and the addition of my body causes the bubbles to ooze over onto the ledge. I scoop them back in around us, wanting as many bubbles as possible. Brian reaches up with his foot and turns the knobs to shut the water off.
The smell of his sandalwood shampoo wafts up to my nose and I turn my head, burying my face in his hair to breathe it in deeply. His hair smells so good. That scent has been associated with Brian in my memory bank since that very first night. I can be in a crowd of people and catch a whiff of sandalwood; my mind instantly jumps to thoughts of Brian, followed by a smile, a set of chills and a twitch in my pants. Every time.
He tilts his head away from me a little and I kiss his temple with a grin. It bugs him when I sniff around on him, but I do it anyway. It’s just one of the things he has to learn to live with. He doesn’t complain anymore like he used to, but he does squirm. But regardless of how he acts about it; it’s turned out to be one of my habits that he’s adopted himself too. I’m not sure he realizes it, but every now and then, I catch him smelling me too. I don’t back away though ‘cause I know what it means. Besides, if there’s a scent on me that makes his mind flicker to thoughts of me when I’m not around, that can only be a good thing. A real good thing.
I pick up one of the rolled up washcloths out of the basket that’s been placed on the ledge and dip it into the water to soak it then move it over his chest. I gently wash him, traipsing the cloth over and around one nipple then the other then down over his stomach.
His hands are caressing my legs, up and down and over my knees.
I immerse the cloth again then wring it out onto his shoulder. I observe the water stream down over the rounded mound of flesh then change direction when it reaches the curvature in his arm just above his bicep. I lean over to kiss his shoulder just as he grabs my ankles and pulls my legs up to wrap them around him.
The pull scoots me a little; my butt squeaks as it starts to move across the porcelain then slides the rest of the way so fast that I collide into him, squishing my balls against his back. I smile against his neck and he starts playing with my feet that are now resting on his thighs. He draws circled patterns over my ankles and traces the lifelines on the bottom.
It’s ticklish, of course, but because it’s sexy in its intent; I’m able to hold steady and not jerk them away. We’re just lazily fondling and exploring each other’s body. It’s relaxing and hypnotic. And with the exception that ‘Sitting by the Dock of the Bay’ is now playing in the background, it’s everything I thought it would be and we haven’t even gotten to the real sex part.
“So this is taking a bubble bath, huh?” he asks, breaking our silence.
“Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it?” I reach for the soap, twirl it around in my hand to get a lather then work it into the cloth to soap it up. I paint his chest in soapy bubbles with gentle brush strokes.
“I guess,” he shrugs, wiggling each of my toes like ‘this little piggy’.
“You don’t like it?” I drag the cloth upward to wash around his neck and under his chin.
He makes a heavy sigh. “It’s kind of boring.”
“Brian!” I slap his chest, not hard, but my wet hand connects with his wet skin with a loud splat making it sound a lot worse than it is and leaving a clearly defined hand print in the soap.
“What? I just remember bath time being kind of fun when I was a kid. Can I help it if you’re putting me to sleep with all this lovey-dovey stuff?” I submerge the cloth and rinse away the soap on his chest, erasing my handprint in the process then I snuggle against his ear, giving him little nibbles.
“You like my lovey-dovey stuff. Don’t lie.” He’s still playing with my toes, wiggling each one three times until he gets to my baby toe. The wiggle for that little guy is faster, stronger and lasts longer. Then he moves over to the big toe on my other foot and starts again with the three wiggles each. Definitely playing This Little Piggy, I’m almost singing it in my head as he goes. I can’t help but smile.
“Borrrrrring.” He’s soooo lying.
I roll my eyes to myself since he can’t see my face then push the cloth further down his body. When I reach his hairline, I toss the cloth aside and slide the rest of the way with my hand. He’s already hard, more proof that he’s not really bored. I stroke him a few times then ask, “Is this boring?”
“No. That’s the fun part I was talking about.”
“Eww. Someone jerked you off in the bath when you were a kid? That’s just sick.”
He laughs. “No, you debauchee. I did it myself.”
“You were masturbating that young? Like 6 or 7 or something?”
“Yeah,” and he’s cracking up at the absurdity.
“Explains a lot.”
He huffs at me. “What’d you do? Play with boats?”
“NO! Well … yeah. Shut up.”
“Now, THAT explains a lot.”
I slug his arm and grab the washcloth. I lift it up, full of water and dripping and squeeze every last drop out right on top of his head, laughing all the while. “Is that fun?”
He pushes my legs off of him and flips around in the tub so fast the water sloshes over the side. His hair is half wet and half dry and he’s got water dripping off his nose in that sexy kind of way. I want to reach up and suck it off but he’s also got this devilish gleam in his eye, so I don’t. A quick rush of worry looms over me.
“No. This is fun!” And he grabs my legs and yanks me roughly. Before I can grab the side of the tub, I’m underwater, thrashing around trying to get my bearings. I’m finally able to sit back upright and I can’t help but start laughing after I catch my breath. I splutter the soapy water out of my mouth and wipe the bubbles from my eyes. I’ve got my face all scrunched up from laughing and trying to keep the bubbles out of my eyes.
He’s laughing too. “Now, you look like Sneezy.” When I can finally open my eyes and see, I splash him. He grabs my arms before I can do it again and kisses me. Well, kind of kisses me, it’s more like a mashing of our mouths or a tangling of our tongues. But I still get lost in its urgency. Talk about zero to sixty.
