Watch Her Bathe

I want to watch her washing herself. I want to see her body moving inside the frothy liquid while it touches her skin and swirls around it. 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. I want to see them too. They are just gorgeous. Look at them. Just look. See how those suds hug them delicately? Does she know how much I want to be bubbles, the warm 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 has matted her hair — a casual look that says she’s free of everything. She closes her eyes to draw in that feeling of freedom; 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 fulfils? I could tell her how I feel about it as I see it, but that would spoil these moments. I want her to perform without knowing that she’s performing. 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. Nothing more needs to be spoken.

She asks me if I enjoy watching her bathe. She raises an eyebrow and waits for me to respond.

Perfect timing, my darling. I was thinking how much I was enjoying this.

I part my lips, ready to respond, but she doesn’t wait for one to come. She levels her eyes, grins and turns onto her side instead. She never wanted a reply. She wanted a reaction. Bitch! She got it. She played me well. Cunning fox. You tease me, bad girl. You beat me at this game. Next time I won’t be so obvious.

For now, I’ll silently congratulate you — just sitting here and watching you bathe some more, appreciating your naughty charm and exquisite femininity without saying a word about it.

-Michael Forman (Author of adult, slightly erotic fiction.)