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The shower was a claw-foot tub with acurtain around it on a frame suspended from the ceiling. Theshowerhead was modern, at least. I turned on the taps, with theiroriginal porcelain handles, and waited for the hot water to showup.
“You prefer this to my gorgeous walk-in withthe rainfall head?” When I was younger, I’d thought I waspractically growing up like a street urchin because of my outdatedbathroom.
College had been ashock.
“This could be in anybody’s house. I mean,maybe not with the tiny chandelier.” She pointed to the offendingdecor overhead. “But I don’t feel like if I touch something, a guywith a red jacket and tall furry hat will yell at me.”
“That would never happen. You’re aprincess.” I pulled her against my body and stroked her hair backfrom her forehead. I loved the way she looked at me, like when wewere touching, she couldn’t see anything else. I returned thefeeling a thousandfold.
“I’myourprincess,” she said with adreamy smile.
I pulled the curtain back.
I forgot about the shower chair.
“That’s embarrassing,” I said with no smallamount of dismay.
Her eyes widened. “Wait. You once requiredthe use of specialized medical equipment? I’m rethinking thisentire relationship.”
I mock-laughed at her sarcasm and said, “Irealize it might seem silly of me, but remember, I’ve spent most ofmy life as basically a sex god—”
“The contents of your childhood bedroomrefute that assertion.”
“—and an orthopedic shower chair doesn’tscream eroticism.”
“Neither does the Lego collection you’vepainstakingly preserved since the mid-nineties,” she said with awry twist of her mouth. “And, besides, an actual sex god would beable to make the orthopedic shower chair sexy.”
She had me there.
“I can make anything sexy. And how dare youdoubt me?” I nodded toward the shower. “Get your ass in there andsit down.”
She caught her smiling bottom lip betweenher teeth and stepped in.
I unhooked the showerhead and chuckled ather little squeal of anticipatory delight. “It’s cute that youthink you’ll enjoy this. Spread.”
She opened her legs wide, bracing her feeton the rolled edges of the tub. “We have done this before. Idistinctly remember not hating it. Water pressure is a girl’s bestfriend.”
I was about to enjoy destroying thatconfidence. Holding her gaze, I unscrewed the attachment, releasinga powerful, unchecked torrent of water.
Then I brought it directly against herclit.
She let out a whoop of surprise. I shushedher. “Do you want someone to hear?”
She clamped her lips shut.
“Do you want them to know what a nasty girlyou are?” I taunted her. She was close, her toes curling andflexing as her breathing sped into sharp, desperate whimpers. “Youmight be able to stay quiet through the first one. Maybe thesecond. But what about...seven?”
Her back arched and a high-pitched whineescaped through her nose. I didn’t move the hose away.
“You’ll scream, eventually. “Probably formercy.” I grinned as she kicked and grasped the seat of the chairuntil I was sure she would snap it.
She shook her head and whispered, “No,” butthe panic in her eyes contradicted her professed resolve.
The house was so big, the chances of anyonegetting close enough to hear were slim. I wasn’t sure if she knewthat and was playing along, but I trusted her to use her safe wordif she became concerned.
I leaned in and nibbled her ear. “Does thatget you off? Thinking my family might overhear you coming?”
The muscles in her thighs spasmed.