Would you be shy if I asked to watch you shower?  Would that be a strange request?
I wonder if you’d get comfortable eventually,  with me sitting on the edge of the bath as you stood in front of me completely naked.  Your body a waterfall.  I’d not say a word, that was the stipulation you gave.  I’d simply sit there and look at you.  My hands to myself.  My lips sealed.
Would you blush and shake your head and look away?  Eye contact making it more awkward for you until you try to find everywhere to look but eventually find your gaze back at mine.  Catching my eyes drifting downward along your naked curves.  Following the drops of water as they cascade over your cliffs yet hug every turn like a race car.

You look amazing.  I’d wanted to help strip your body but you told me no.

“I’m capable of undressing myself, thank you.  Now sit down and don’t make another peep or I’ll send you away.”

I nodded.  You were more than generous letting me sit and indulge my voyeuristic side and watch you do something typically so private.  I merely wanted to enjoy you naturally as you’d be when nobody was watching.  Everything else I’ve loved.  When you talk with others.  When you talk with me.  When you’re silent and contemplative.

I’ve taken pictures of you when you weren’t looking at me.  When you didn’t notice I was there.  They’re some of my favorites.  A natural smile as you laugh or when you’re deep in thought.  You’re stunning.  I wanted more of that and I asked a favor to watch you in the shower.  I knew it wouldn’t be exactly as I wanted as you’d know I was there watching you but if I was quiet enough perhaps you’d forget.

The shampoo lathering in your hair.  The black and purple almost disappearing in the sudsy white.  Watching it rush down your body.  You tilt head back into the rush from the shower nozzle.  The soap streams down your back as your eyes close.  I even notice your lips part slightly, jealous that something can give you such an exquisite feeling and not being able to take part in it but loving the reaction it spreads across your face.

You grab the soap and begin to move it across your body.  Up and down and in between.  Looking at your face as you glide your hands over every part of your skin.  Your eyes flick to mine as your hands lower along your torso.  They flick away just as quickly and you turn your back to me while your hands go lower along your hips and pelvis.  I smile and then quickly hide it for when you turn back around.  No expression is the best so you don’t know what I’m thinking and what I’m wanting to do with you.  I’m just a part of the wall with no smile and no thoughts of running my tongue upwards in opposite of the streams of water down your body.

I want to kiss your naked knees.  Snake my neck around and kiss the back of them and continue twirling around and every inch up and down and every direction from there that I find a part of you.  I have to catch myself as you turn around to face me so the lust in my eyes isn’t caught.

You’re clean.  Your body looks like fine china.  Freshly cleaned piano keys, waiting to be touched again so their music can ring but right now their surface is free of oily fingertips.

“Towel please,” you ask and I answer.

The towel doing the job that my lips and tongue would gladly do for it, even though it would mean you’d have to slip right back into the shower afterwards.

You wrap it around yourself, tucking it in and wearing it like a dress.  The water dripping down your back from your hair and you ask again, “towel, the small one.”

This time I stand up and your eyes quickly jump to me.  There is no shocked or startled movement as if you didn’t know I was there but enough of a movement that you almost forgot, even after asking for something.
I hand you the towel and watch you wrap your hair in it on top of your head.  Twirling it around and soaking up the water, leaving only the droplets that bead across your back.

“May I?”  I ask in a quiet voice.  Your eyes look back at me and you nod your head.

I remove the towel from your hair then give it a shaggy ruffle to dry up any sopping wet patches and then toss the towel on to the floor.

“I like when your hair is wet when you kiss me.  When I can feel the water on my face as you lean down while straddling my waist above me.  You look gorgeous with wet hair, darling.  Let it dry on its own and let me enjoy it while it does.”

I reach over and grab your hand, giving it a squeeze and lead you down the hall to the bedroom, closing the door, removing the towel and taking the described position with you on the bed.  I’ll apologize later for causing you to need another shower.

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