He couldn't wait for it to end. With his skin wet but not dripping, he went inside.She turned the water off, yanked back the shower curtain and reached for a towel. Holding it, still folded and warm, she realized just how severely the hurricane had taken not only power, but sound from them. No music except their voices. No soothing rush of air through the vents. No microwave reminding them to remove the popcorn. Silence. Except for that damn generator. The towel fell open, and she patted her skin.He walked in to their bedroom and saw her in the bathroom from across the bed, bent over, working the towel over her thick, ropelike hair. Still, after the years, seeing her cartwheeled his heart, prompting his second and fourth chakras to hum a duet. As she stood, her full, pendulous breasts swung and bounced. The candlelight reflected from the bathroom mirror painted her in shades of amber. Clinging mother-of-pearl droplets glistened where her one-piece swimsuit blocked the sun, across her. Hidden laces drew the garment tight around her tiny waist;the twin hemispheres of her bare white breasts jutted forward through the cutaway front of the sheath, tipped with pink and flashes of gold.May had already been fitted for a number of modest dresses appropriate for wear about the house, in a rainbow of colors suited to each season, heavily embroidered and trimmed in golden thread. How excited she'd been to model each of them in turn for the tailor and their Master, her tiptoed feet moving quickly inside the narrow, ankle length skirts with delicate steps a few inches long while her upper body glided ethereally to and fro, just as she'd been trained. But she would perform today's trials in the undergarment alone, just as she would serve her future master in his private chambers.The attendant unwound the towel that confined May's hair, which was now dry, and brushed it out once again before beginning to rebraid and rebind it. The eager young mind of the apprentice concubine.
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