Part 38: Apples Not Peaches
The wind up clock read 2:30 before we got out of bed again. Summer got up first this time, and I watched her cross the room, graceful and free, towards her dresser. Opening a drawer, she got out the clothes she wanted to wear and turned towards me. “Come on, Chubby,” she said. “Let’s go take a bath.”I raised an eyebrow. “A what?”
“A bath. You know hot water, bar of soap, wash on, rinse off.”
I grinned. “I know what you mean, I just never…”
“You’ve never taken a bath? How do you smell so nice?”
I laughed and a blush came to my cheeks. “No, I’ve taken a bath. Just not with someone else in it.”
She nearly dropped her clothes. A sly grin crossed her lips. “You’re kidding, right? Never taken a bath with a girl?”
“What about bitch face Ashley?”
I laughed. “No, she would have had a fit if she couldn’t have the bathtub all to herself. That was her me time.”
“Well, my me time is you time, so come on.” She didn’t wait, but sauntered across the floor making sure she had my attention and was allured to follow. She stepped out on the landing and I heard her bare feet padding down the steps. “I’ll get it started,” she called out. “Don’t make me come back to drag you in the tub.”
“Oh please, drag me,” I mumbled, climbing out of bed and following in her pleasant wake.
I was halfway down the stairs when I heard her scream. It wasn’t a blood curdling cry of terror, but a yelp of surprise like when you realize you aren’t completely alone. I jumped the rest of the way down and rounded both corners into the kitchen where I saw she was hunched down in front of the cabinets by the sink.
“There’s people out there,” she hissed. “In the orchard.”
All the window shades were open, affording a clear view both inside and out, and sure enough I could see there were people out in the orchard. Several groups were picking apples from trees and putting them in baskets. I stepped up close to the window and drew the shades before anyone saw inside. After all, there were kids out there, too. No need for children or their grandparents to see us both naked as the day we were born. I had to laugh just a little.
“It’s okay, Summer. They must open the orchard to tourists and locals on the weekends. Nothing to worry about.” I walked around the room to close the remaining shades, being careful to avoid being seen by all the fruit pickers who had invaded our little sanctuary.
“Nothing to worry about?” she exclaimed, slowly coming out of her crouch, now that we had a little privacy back. “They could see everything I got. Apples and all.”
I grinned and stepped up to her, taking her in my arms. “Oh baby, you are peaches, not apples.” I kissed her on her neck and she made a purring sound in my ear.
“Well, I hope there’s no fruit pickers in the bathtub. Except you.”
She gently pried herself from my embrace and sauntered into the bathroom with a self-assured shake to her walk. She knew I found her beautiful and that brought out her playful side. Thinking of her in the bath brought out mine.
I followed her into the bathroom, and habit made me shut the door. She already was in the tub, hot water filling up the old claw footed antique. She didn’t have to invite me in. The sight of her was enough to coax me over the edge of the tub and down into its steamy waters.
“I can’t believe you’ve never taken a bath with anyone,” she said, as I sat across from her, her smooth bare legs touching mine.
She looked at me with an incredulous look on her face. “Didn’t you and Ashley ever do anything together?”
I gave a little snort in response. “Not much. Eat dinner. Go to sleep. Have sex whenever it suited her.”
“Why did you stay with her so long?”
I thought about it. “Sometimes I guess we get comfortable in a relationship. Even when it’s not a good one. We tell ourselves there’s nothing else out there for us. This is as good as it gets.”
“Yeah, I know,” she agreed, swishing the water around her as it came level with her stomach.
“With her, I thought I was in love. Things would get bad, or I would get to feeling unimportant, and she seemed to know it. So she would do something thoughtful to bring you back to her. But in reality, she only wanted you when she wanted you.”
“I knew a guy like that once. I thought I loved him, probably would have married him too if it hadn’t been for me taking care of my mom. I adored him, though he only adored himself. Once I got away from him, I was like how in the world did I end up with that guy?”
“Yeah, all the while you tell yourself you are in love. I think my problem was I had never been in a serious relationship until her. I had never known someone who really loved me, so I had nothing to compare it to. In those cases, you are none the wiser and easily taken in by someone who says, hey this is love. Even if it really isn’t.”
“So you didn’t really love Ashley?”
“At the time I thought I did. But getting stood up at the altar tends to make one stand back and analyze things.” I shook my head and laughed. “Why in the world are we talking about her while I’m in the tub with you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to see how you felt about her now. Whether anything remains.”
“Nothing remains,” I said.
She nodded with a little smile. “I’m glad. I don’t like sharing.” She smiled. “Unless it’s soap.” She handed me a bar of soap. “Now, would you like to wash me?”
It may be difficult for the average person to understand, but there is something exceedingly beautiful about seeing your partner in the bath. The way the water cascades in rivulets down their body when you splash it onto their skin, the way that same body seems to rise to meet your hands when you put soap to them and work it into lather. Perhaps it’s the way your hands feel upon them, how you linger in your favorite places, or discover new ones you never noticed before. Maybe it’s the soap beneath your fingers creating a slippery surface on soft skin and the desire that wells upon with you, wanting to touch even more. I cannot say for certain, but there is something about soapy water and bare skin that is just so sensual that it invades every sense, smell, touch, even taste…but I do recommend waiting until the soap is off before the latter.
Summer laughed, looking at my face after I dared to kiss her breast with soap intact. So lost in my thoughts and longing for her, I didn’t realize I hadn’t washed the lather from her. With this horrid look on my face, we both could do nothing but laugh. I handed her the soap and felt she should do the rest herself. I couldn’t be trusted not to want her, suds and all.
As she took her turn to bathe me, I still could not keep my eyes off her lovely frame. She seemed to glow in the tub, and I don’t think it had anything to do with the fact I had washed her. There is a particular look that comes over new lovers, especially when they have made love three times in less than twenty four hours. There was a fresh aura about Summer that made her look different to me. She looked far happier and her whole body seemed to bask in it, as I’m sure mine did too. I could feel myself glowing as her hands caressed my skin with the warm lather, and I knew I must look different in this light too, as if something inside me had broken apart and was now coming back together in new and wonderful ways. She put her hand upon my heart and I knew she could feel the racing beat, for she smiled and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I know,” she whispered, and there was no need to say anything else. She let the soap fall from her hands and took me into her arms. The comfort that came from that gesture, the reassurance that we all need, washed all over me, and I thought to myself I was living the best love story ever.
After our first bath together, Summer surprised me again by suggesting we dress each other for the day. I found this to be a bit awkward, for part of me wanted to dress her conservative so as not reveal all her womanly charms to everyone else, and yet another part of me wanted to dress her as sexy as the mores of the country town would allow. In the end, I put her in tight fitting jeans, and we laughed as I tried to work them up past her shapely hips. For a top, I chose a low cut blouse that hugged her breasts, revealing the shape of her without making her pop out everywhere. Ruffles bordered the floral blouse and I chose a few bracelets from her jewelry to complement the outfit. I also picked out her earrings which were shaped like little cupcakes. When I told her she could pick out her own shoes, she protested, saying I had to completely dress her, so I put some ocean blue flip flops on her gorgeous feet.
If I thought I might have dressed her in too revealing attire, I needn’t have worried. She made me try on every pair of jeans I had until we found the tightest ones. For a shirt she repeated the process, finally finding a solid black button up shirt that was missing the top two buttons. I guess if her cleavage was going to be revealed some, then so would mine. Normally, I would have worn an undershirt, but she said no. “I want to see your cute skunk trail,” she said. From her own jewelry she took a handmade bracelet, a peace sign wrapped in hemp cord and put it on me. Then she took a vial that contained some kind of oil and had me rub it into my wrists. It had the smell of sandalwood. She couldn’t quite find the right shoes from my own luggage, so to keep us matching she put me in a pair of her sandals to top everything off. Dark and made of leather, they fit a little tight but looked good against the rest of my wardrobe. We both looked at each other head to foot. Smiling, I thought she looked so cute and sexy, and as for myself , well let’s just say I had never been dressed so well in my life.
“Now I think we are ready to face the apple pickers,” she proudly said.
“Orchard House And The Heart Of Everything” 2016 Paul D Aronson.