Today is his leaving day. The one that breaks my heart a little more each time he goes. Lying naked in bed, I watch him as he packs his bags; moving about the walk-in wardrobe with just his shorts on. The lean body he has shadowed in the morning light. His eye catches mine, watching him. The glint in his regard shows he has mischief on his mind. We both know what is to come. The highs and the lows. We are well practiced at this.
He moves to the ensuite bathroom, turning on the shower before undressing and getting in. The glass walls are currently clear as he stands back under the shower head, allowing the water to run through his shoulder length hair and down his body. The sight draws me from my resting place. The internal call is strong; tend to him gently before he goes.
I brush my teeth at the vanity alongside him, looking at my nakedness in the mirror, supple breasts, nipples erect, lean belly, long hair up in a messy bun.
"Can you wash my hair?" his voice, clear though the steamed up glass. His washing of hair and head massage requests never a surprise in our long relationship.
Opening the door to the shower he steps out of the water giving me space to enter. Then, to my surprise, he goes down on his knees onto the hard tile floor. Closing his eyes he puts his forehead between my breasts and hands onto my hips. I soak in the tenderness of his surrender as I reach for the shampoo. The smell puts me off. I make some remark about how there aren't enough good smelling men's shampoo and conditioners, that he has to resort to using products targeting women or some shite 3in1 mens brand. I feel him murmur some response into my belly.
I feel he's already gone. He's in the space where my touch takes him, far from the pressures, the demands... from everything apart from this moment. So many names for this time altering space; they rattle through my head as I ensure his hair is clean from the roots to the tips. Flow, sub-space, bliss, euphoria... Whatever it is labeled, it can never describe the true impact on the recipient.
Reaching behind me, I remove the showerhead. Leaning his head back, rinsing the shampoo from his hair, running my long nails along his scalp; a slight moan coming from between my breasts. I feel his short beard on my underboobs and belly, and his fingers squeeze my hips softly as he maintains his balance, his eyes still closed. The serenity of his bliss showing clearly on his face.
I return the showerhead to its holder. The water, hot, running down my back. Grabbing the conditioner I squirt a liberal amount onto my palm before spreading it over both hands and apply it to the tangled ends of his hair. His head turns slightly. I feel his breath pushing past the left side of my belly. Folding his hair up onto his head, I massage the conditioner into his scalp. This is the bit he's been aching for. His fingers tighten on my hips as my nails and fingertips perform little fluid circles on his head. I lose myself in the sensations. Not as much as him, but enough to suddenly realise it's been a while, and his knees on the tiles must be sore.
I reach for the shower head again, guiding his head to the leaning back position. His hair spreads out like a fan across his back as I systematically rinse from the roots to the ends. Not a tangle to be seen. The showerhead back in place, I assisted him up joking about old men needing help off their knees.
He turns me about, out of the water, so he can step in. I reach for the soap, washing myself; my pussy was still sticky from the previous night's fun. We chat unceremoniously about being in that blissful mental space meaning the pain in the knees can be tolerated much easier. But I still see that glint in his eye.
He steps out and dries himself, leaving me to rinse my soap off. I watch him toweling his body, biceps bulging as he moves around, then arms up, drying his hair. Turning off the shower, I join him. Drying myself, quickly. The need for me to get to the bedroom is intensifying.
I lower myself down into nadu on the carpet near the open ranchslider of our bedroom. The summer breeze on my back. He faffs around, in what seems to be a very purposeful, taunting, manner. My ankle aches in this position. I must have twisted it yesterday while playing with the kids. I lift and lower myself repeatedly, trying to make the pain dissipate. It doesn't. There's enough pain to detract from what will be coming.
