It’s been a long day.
Nothing has been going right. His book, rejected. His publicist left him. He's on thin ice at the newspaper as his last three assignments were late.
He’s tired and frustrated.
Without a word, he goes into the house and runs himself a hot bath.
The bubbles are gone even before he has the chance to get in.
Perfect reflection on what has been a shit day.
He doesn't bother to look up when his girlfriend comes into the bathroom. She pulls the stool up next to the tub.
He still has yet to look at her.
Doesn’t want to.
Doesn’t want her to see the disappointment he’s feeling after failing. Again.
She doesn’t pressure him to look or speak. She simply takes the sponge and soap and builds up a good lather.
Even without words, her gentle washing speaks volumes. She begins at his chest letting her fingers graze ever so lightly over his nipples that she knows are incredibly sensitive.
An involuntary hiss escapes him.
Her light touch continues down his chest, washing him with great care.
His eyes finally look over to meet hers. They are full of love and caring.
He's entranced and can't look away.
Expertly, she moves down his far leg careful not to venture where he now aches to be touched the most.
Slowly, purposefully, she comes up the other side on the leg closest to her.
He bites his bottom lip as the sponge is forgotten.
Her hand is like a firm silk glove as she takes a hold of his throbbing manhood that has only grown with her skillful touches.
Even as he nears climax, his eyes never waver from hers.
His relief is blissful, his anguish no longer a crashing down on him.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.