Authors Note:
This story is a work of fiction and depicts a sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If this offends you, read no further.
This is my first story and I encourage you to leave comments. I enjoy writing and appreciate all constructive criticism.
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I fell in love watching you shower, you know. I've done it so often I know your routine off by heart. I know how shy you are and how you shriek when you catch me watching. I always hated the see-through shower doors until the first time I saw you through them, now I wouldn't trade them for anything.
I'm sitting on the bed listening to you prepare for your 40 minute show of divine sensuality. I hear the water begin to flow and try to picture you getting undressed, as I know you are now doing. You unbutton your white pinstriped shirt, always forgetting to untuck it from your black formal pants first. When you can't get to the last two buttons I hear you sigh at yourself, annoyed, and I smile. You untuck it and finish unbuttoning it and quickly shake if free from your shoulders. I hear the lid to the laundry basket open and your shirt land in the bottom. Next I hear the clasp and zip on your pants and picture the way you shimmy them down those strong legs.
While I can't hear it I know your panties are next, your bra always comes off last. I still admire the way you reach back with your left hand and unclasp it in less than a second. I can never get that right and always end up using both hands. I hear your wedding ring swivel to a stop on the basin and bite my lip knowing that soon I will able to hide behind the open door and watch every moment of your favourite preferred cleansing ritual.
Staring at the dark wood door leading to the bathroom I hear the glass shower door slide open and I wait for the inevitable sharp intake of air when you try to reach through the hot stream of water to turn the cold tap open. I hear the water flowing at different speeds until you find the perfect mix. I stand up, slowly tiptoeing my way to the door, being careful to keep my body behind it. I pull it open a little more just enough for me to see the entire length of the shower, knowing you move across the whole space.
You stand with your head tilted backwards and the water colliding with your chest, your arms pulled to the sides of your breasts as though you were cold and your palms facing the water. You inhale deeply and slowly, moving your neck from side to side just letting the water trickle down your back. Now comfortable with the temperature you turn your back to the stream and tilt your head backwards to wet your hair. Your arms are still at your chest and your expression is one of pure tranquillity as the water pours over your face and hair and down the curves of your lean body.
You don't exactly have the athletic build but that doesn't stop you from trying. Your natural hourglass figure is lean and taut from daily 10 mile runs and the occasional strength training session. When your hair is thoroughly wetted you reach for the vanilla scented shampoo that makes my stomach flutter each time you hug me. After pouring some into your hand and returning the bottle to its' rightful place you work the shampoo into your mid-back length hair. Your naturally ginger hair is now dyed a darker shade of red which I don't always understand but still love. As you build up a lather with the shampoo I watch the well developed but unmistakably feminine muscles in your arms and shoulders flex. My groin twitches at the memory of seeing them flex in a similar way.
The evening of our second anniversary we had gone to an upper class restaurant. You sent sultry glares across the table all night and I often caught you staring at the tanned cleavage purposefully sticking out of my low cut black dress. I had my shoulder length brunette hair up in a clip because you love the way it makes my cheek bones pop. After three hours of our legs stealing caresses under the table we hurried home. I barely got the door closed before your lips were on mine. Being about a month and a half ago that was the last time you fervently lifted my legs around your waist and pinned me to the living room wall. Your sleeveless, cream coloured blouse allowed me to see every rise and dip of those smooth muscles that were holding me up while your hips were grinding hard against me, before carrying me to the bedroom and effortlessly tossing me onto the bed.
I should remember to buy more of the wine we were drinking in the restaurant that night. When you're done you lean back under the water and the white foam is almost imperceptible as it flows down your milky white skin. I adore your Irish complexion, freckles and all.