I was languishing in a hot bubble bath when he arrived, shoulders sunk low under the water and one red-nailed foot tracing lazy circles on a tile above the taps. I'd long given up reading the steam-swollen paperback thrown carelessly on the floor beside half a glass of slowly warming white wine.
He came into the bathroom, calling a customary greeting, bending low to kiss me. A faint vestige of his citrus scent evaporating in heat rising from the water made me think of a Tuscan hillside: the sun sliding over terraces of lemon trees at dusk.
I like to watch him undress: the ritualistic order he employs never differs and I anticipate each area of his body as it's revealed to my gaze. The easy slide of muscle over bone as he removes his shirt and the way he winds a leather belt into a drawer-friendly curl.
I enjoy the view of the back of his thighs and I know, once he's undressed, that he'll stretch - releasing the tension of the drive home and mentally putting the working day away.
Naked, he leaves the bathroom, in search of his usual down-time uniform of battered jeans teamed with one of a hundred equally battered black t-shirts.
He knows I like to watch him. Sometimes he plays up to it, sometimes he doesn't but I watch him anyway. It's just one of my little things.
He came into the bathroom, calling a customary greeting, bending low to kiss me. A faint vestige of his citrus scent evaporating in heat rising from the water made me think of a Tuscan hillside: the sun sliding over terraces of lemon trees at dusk.
I like to watch him undress: the ritualistic order he employs never differs and I anticipate each area of his body as it's revealed to my gaze. The easy slide of muscle over bone as he removes his shirt and the way he winds a leather belt into a drawer-friendly curl.
I enjoy the view of the back of his thighs and I know, once he's undressed, that he'll stretch - releasing the tension of the drive home and mentally putting the working day away.
Naked, he leaves the bathroom, in search of his usual down-time uniform of battered jeans teamed with one of a hundred equally battered black t-shirts.
He knows I like to watch him. Sometimes he plays up to it, sometimes he doesn't but I watch him anyway. It's just one of my little things.