Pulling into the drive, she shifts to park and heaves a sigh. Another weary week at a close, leaving the work but grabbing the whiskey, her black pencil skirt stretches as she exits the car. A deep voice calls out "Hello there." The new neighbor.
"Hello" She returns his friendly wave with a jingle of her keys, her curves swaying as she climbs the step to her door, INSERTS her key, and ENTERS leaving all but relaxation and self-indulgence behind its SOLID oak. Finally ... HOME.
Her back against the door, she tosses her keys in the bowl and removes her heels, throwing them carelessly aside. Padding across the hardwood to the kitchen for a glass. Twisting the top, breaking the seal, the complex scent drifts toward her as the liquid flows from vessel to vessel. She brings the crystal to her lips, inhaling deeply before sipping, tasting, swallowing, enjoying the heat on its long journey down her throat.
She pours another . . . just one having never been quite enough for her . . . enjoying the weight in her hand as she carries it with her to the master bath. Turning the water on hot so the room can get steamy, she sips and savors the amber ambrosia at hand. Another drink downed, she sets the glass on the vanity and reaches for the top button of her blouse. As the first disc slips through its slot, she feels a shiver down her spine.
Turning toward the window she sees him standing there, in front of his own window, MASTER of his own bath. Their eyes meet. His eyebrow raises as he removes his shirt, letting it drop casually from his fingers. Her hands continue their work . . . releasing one button at a time until the silk SLITHERS from her shoulders, SLIDES down her back, and PUDDLES on the floor. This time it is her brow that arches in challenge as her hands lower . . . Separate but in unison, their skin revealed as skirts are peeled and jeans are shed . . . she a Renaissance masterpiece - soft pale skin and luscious curves... he carved from marble - solid, tall, and pleasing to the . . . senses.
