Rose had been married to her husband Cyrus for three years. They had met through introductions in the proper way. He was in university and she was in the care of her Uncle. Cyrus was a few years older than her, starry-eyed and driven. She had liked that he knew what he wanted out of life and not take no for an answer. When her Uncle passed, it was her husband who convinced her to keep the family estate. She had wanted to sell it and use the money to secure something modest in the city. But Cyrus was adamant they keep it as a sign of status and prosperity.
It was too big. A grand manse with far too many rooms to sort through. They had spent the last summer just clearing it of cobwebs. Repairs cost so much that Cyrus had to spend weeks away at a time working for his father just to keep the main boiler running.
The worst of it was how she could never shake the feeling of being watched. Especially when she was alone, as she was now. The house was large, and there were places she had never been, rooms sealed long ago to fight the cold of the manor. There could even be other people here she thought, how could she tell?
Cyrus called her worries foolish, and under the pressure of his logic, her fears could not hold in her. but they always came back. The longer Cyrus was gone the more they grew. She doubted her sanity. The feeling of being watched made her ever nervous, and she would find herself jumping at any sound.
On this day it was the sound of a door closing. A sudden impact caused her to drop a piece of fine porcelain, shattering it to the floor. Her heart raced as she looked around the room in panic. "Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing down the hallway and beyond. She had been rearranging the furniture in one of the many guest rooms when she heard it. Craning an ear she listened for some response. Hearing a faint creaking sound that echoed from the hall as if some great weight was moving through the manse. She stood still for a moment, "Old houses creak" said the voice in her head. Rose took note that the dismissive voice in her head had become Cyrus' voice. Had she given up even her own thoughts to him? "Well Cyrus isn't here," she said with defiance. "Besides, this sounded different". She walked down the hallway towards the source of the noise, her heart pounding in her chest.
She reached the end of the hallway and peered into the room. The door was ajar. In the failing light, she could see movement. Her heart froze, and she pressed against the wall. Keeping to the shadows, she eased ever closer. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light until she could make out the culprit. An open window, and a thin ghostly curtain flapping in the early evening breeze. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Clearly I'm too tired for more of this," she said, shutting the window and heading upstairs to wash off the dust of the day.
The private bath off the master bedroom was her only real joy of late. True solace in the fiasco that was this house. It held a large, claw-foot tub of hammered brass with a marble tile surrounding it. Dark green tiles that reminded her of deep ocean water. Unlike most of the rooms in the house, this one could hold its heat, and she kept it heated. The water was always hot and ready for a bath. Warmed from the old massive boiler that sat deep in the roots of the house.
She turned knobs and left the steaming pipes to fill the tub as she undressed and donned a robe. Once it was full she stood there watching the steam rise off the water. Prolonging that moment when she would lower herself into its warming depths. The anticipation was sweet, another joy she found for herself. Joy was rare and she learned to draw out these moments when she could.
The water was almost too hot, but she wanted to feel that heat on her skin. She dropped the robe to the floor, closed her eyes, and let out a sigh of relief as she settled into the tub.
Rose let her mind wander. She reached for the soap and began to lather her body. Her hands glided over her curves, feeling every inch of herself. She had kept herself pure before her wedding. Giving her flesh only to Cyrus. But in stolen moments like this, she wondered about the sensation of being touched by someone else's hands.
Her fingers danced over her milky breasts, feeling the weight of them in her palms. She pinched her nipples between her fingers and felt a jolt of pleasure course through her body. Her hand moved slowly down between her legs...
She summoned into her mind again the feeling of being watched. This time on purpose. She imagined it until she could 'feel' the presence in the room as she touched herself. A shadowy figure standing in the doorway, watching her. It had been watching her for a while now, she thought. Drawn to her. The figure could feel the heat radiating from her body, and it was intoxicated by it. It wanted to touch her, to taste her, to make her moan.
In her mind, the figure drew closer. Watching as she continued to touch herself. She was so beautiful... So perfect...
