"Do you mind if I just run up for a quick bath?" Samantha asked Mark, her husband of 10 years.
"Of course not, Babe. Take a long bath, if you'd like." he answered. "I'm just gonna whip up these dishes, and maybe get the garbage out, then I'm thinking of hopping into bed."
It had been one of those days. Their seven year old daughter, Anna, had been difficult most of the day. Their twin toddlers were exceptionally needy too. Samantha was tired of hearing "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy..." all day. The extra baby-sitting she had also taken on, was beginning to wear on her.
Mark had been up at 5:30 every day this week. His job at the factory was getting very demanding. He had wanted more responsibility and a bigger paycheque, and now he had them both. But they came at a price.
The kids were all down for the night and they could finally take some quiet time. Should they take their time alone? Together? Alone. It took them years to figure out they could take time to themselves; together or apart.
Squeak! Mark could hear from downstairs as Samantha started the water. "I have to fix that faucet," he thought out loud, but damned if he could remember it, while it wasn't in use. Samantha knew it too. She also knew if she ever asked him, he would do it. But it was ok. For now.
She plopped in a bubble bar and took a long deep breath of the fragrance. She gathered her fixings and brought them all to within reach of the tub: body wash, razor, shaving cream, shampoo, conditioner, iPhone in its waterproof case, drink, book, foot scrubby, and a puffy ball that only she knew the proper name for.
She eased one aching foot into the hot water, then the other. "Now for some Mommy time," she heard herself say, as she sank her bottom and eventually her knees beneath the bubbles.
The faucet squeaked again, signalling to Mark that she had stopped running the water. It was safe to fill up the sink without freezing or burning her feet. He thought of her sitting in the old claw foot tub; her legs submerged in the hot water, topped with a thick swath of bubbles. She was likely sitting up with her top half still dry; her chest exposed in the bright light.
He thought about his wife's breasts for a bit, as he often would. They had changed over the years. Feeding three children would do that. They were even more beautiful to him now than they were the night he first saw them; first held them; first-
Mark blinked hard and gave his head a quick shake. Someday, he would get her a tub where she could put her feet, knees, and boobs in the water all at the same time. But for now he was still behind on fixing the damned tap.
Upstairs, Samantha played her new favourite country song on her iPhone, and slowly sank her shoulders down the sloping back of the tub. Her knees rose up, covered in suds. She sat back up and reached for her drink, and then for her book. On the cover, a shirtless young man in a cowboy hat was holding a woman twice his age in his muscular arms. "Is this what passes for romance these days?"
It didn't matter. It was just fluff. Some would call it smut for suburban moms. She would probably rip through this in an hour. There wouldn't be a lot of substance, but it would be nice to just shut off and loose herself in someone else's story for once.
Outside, the garbage bin lid was frozen shut again. Mark pried it open, hoisted the garbage bag into it and rushed back in where it was warm. He put all the lights out and tiptoed to the bedroom.
He lay under the covers naked, but the sheets were cool. He shivered suddenly. What would he do with his early bedtime? He could catch up on his youtube watch-later list. Maybe, he could scroll through the day's endless facebook news feed. He should just go to sleep. He sure could use it.
"But y-know... " he thought.
Bzzzz Bzzzz.
Samantha's phone vibrated on the bathmat.
It was a snap - a selfie from her husband just down the hall. In the image, Mark was laying in bed; covers to his chin, except for one arm, which was out to snap the picture. The caption read [How's your bath?]
She smiled and put the phone down. She read another page and took a drink.
A few minutes later Mark's phone lit up. It was a snap of Samantha's face. Well, just her eyes peeping above her book, really. He could see the cover. He frowned. Then he smiled.
[Is that a good book? Does it have any sex in it?]
{Not yet. But its good.}
[Doesn't sound very good to me.]
They had shared this playful exchange countless times over the years.
Samantha sent him another selfie. This time her book was down and she was smiling. She captioned it {I thought you were going to sleep.}
[I said I was going to bed. And here I am.]
He snapped new picture if himself, this time the blanket was pulled down to his abdomen. Since joining the gym a year ago, he had begun to trade what he though of as his man-boobs for some pecks.
{Your chest is looking nice} she responded.
[Thanks. I like yours too ;) ]
She picked up her book and took another drink. "Someone's feisty tonight" she thought.
Mark lay in the bed partly covered a while. He had always wanted her to send him nudie pics but she was never quite at ease with the idea. There was just something too risky about it. She also struggled, when confronted with herself on the screen.
Samantha looked at her phone and thought for a few minutes.
"Oh well," Mark thought, "she doesn't need me pestering her tonight."
He watched a short youtube video about top ten rocket launch fails. How boring. He was restless and this wasn't holding his interest. He opened his browser to see if there was anything interesting on his favourite adult site.
Just as Mark closed the last penis enlargement pop-up, he noticed a snap had come in. A photo of some bubbles on bathwater. He concentrated hard on the image, all too aware of the ten second countdown. If he imagined hard enough, one of his wife's nipples was almost visible between a two clumps of bubbles.
