Chapter 8 - Jasmine's Bath
Jasmine walked into the bathroom; it was one of her favourite rooms in the house. It was completely feminine. The walls were a dusty rose shade, complemented with gold fixtures, black rugs and huge black fluffy towels hanging on a gold rack beside a large ivory bathtub. She walked from the bedroom nude into the bathroom, watching herself in the mirror behind the tub. 'Not bad for an old girl.' She thought while glancing at her reflection before bending over to turn on the tap. Jasmine loved to bathe by candlelight, and had placed large fragrant candles around the room; she lit them and turned off the overhead light, leaving the room in a golden glow.
The water flowed, hot and steamy, like the sex she had enjoyed earlier with George. Jasmine pulled the white chocolate truffle bubble bath off the shelf and added a generous amount to the water. The scent filled the air with a luscious chocolate odour that was almost good enough to eat. It was another warm summer evening and Jasmine opened the window behind her to let in the fragrant night air. She then turned and grabbed a hand full of hair pins from the drawer and went about pinning up her long blonde hair. As she lifted her hands to pin up the mass of blonde hair her generous breasts also lifted. She looked at them and could see the small mark George had left earlier, and a smile rose to her lips as she recalled that moment. The tub was about half full now, and she eased her well loved body into its warm depths.
The bubbles foamed around her, floating over her smooth skin. Jasmine put her head back and thought about the events of the past two days. There had been passion, love, hatred, anger and a million other emotions there. She thought back to the bland, dull but safe days before and wondered which she actually preferred. On one hand the secure days were nice, predictable and easy, but boring. On the other hand, the new feelings were happy, sad, scared and anything but boring. Jasmine kind of missed the stability of her marriage and how George treated her with love and respect. Was she foolish for wanting a more exciting life? Would she regret her actions?
The tub was full and Jasmine reached up the turn the taps off, the water and bubbles sliding down her smooth breasts. Relaxing back into the tub her mind once more returned to thought. Twenty odd years and she had never had another man until recently. Why was that? She loved George, he was a good man, he had helped her raise their children, he had provided nicely for her and she had everything she could ever dream of. So why did she feel the urge for other men? 'Simple, I settled down too young; I have slept with five men in my entire life, well four, other than George. I want more.' She thought. 'I want to experience the way other men have sex, and they all fuck differently.' But was it really worth it to blow all the years of trust and commitment she and George had built up together for a few nights of sex? Sounds fun at the time, but what about in twenty years? Would they regret their actions now? 'Well, it's a bit late for that now.' She thought.
As Jasmine sat in her bath, a pair of eyes were riveted to her window. It was the smell of chocolate that drew him initially; he never intended to peep on her bath. However, he could not tear his eyes away now. Watching her every move made him want her even more than he had previously. He watched as she put her hair up and saw her breasts rise and fall with each fluid movement. He saw the small purple hickey on her left breast. Watched her walk to the tub and get in, the water swallowing her up; watched as she turned off the water and the water ran between her breasts making them glisten in the light. He watched her lie back against the tub and close her eyes. His hand strayed down to his erection, caressing it through the fabric of his denim shorts.
Jasmine recalled how Rick had touched her; it was so different than George's touch. Her hand trailed down to her breast, touching the tender skin, making her nipple pucker in response. Her fingers traced the hard rosebud, the water making it slide though her fingers easily. She recalled George's excitement and rough touch last night. She compared it to Rick's more gentle and unsure touch. She liked both and could not decide which she really preferred.
