I nod and cut into my piece of corned beef and mustard (Dain’s latest craze is boiling salted meat and vegetables).
‘That’s perfect timing actually. I have to be in Leeds next Wednesday for a couple of things. I might book into a hotel rather than coming back to keep out of the way.’
‘Oh?’ Dain quirks an eyebrow.
‘A meeting with my supervisor and a faculty function later on at a hotel,’ I explain.
‘Sounds fun.’ He spears a boiled carrot and pops it in his mouth. ‘Hmm, this is tasty. I think I might try a chicken and veggies next.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to turn up with a live one. I’m not interested in helping you kill and pluck a chicken.’ Honestly, anything is possible with him.
‘We could use the feathers to make a cushion?’
‘No!’
Dain chuckles, and we continue eating by candlelight. My thoughts wander off.I really hope he doesn’t show up with a live chicken to prove a point. I should attempt to wash my hair before I go to Leeds. I need to book the hotel too.
I glance at my phone on the table with its blank screen. Still no ‘woe is me’ messages from Klint. He hasn’t been in contact for a week, and his silence is worrying.I hope he’s not doing anything stupid.
***
On Sunday morning, before the plumbing works commence, I heat up the kettle and collect my towel, shampoo, and conditioner and put them in my tote. My hair is in a right state, and I can’t meet my supervisor with a head full of greasy rats’ tails. Even if I manage to give it only a cursory wash, it’s better than nothing. I found a sturdy tin bucket in the shed outside, so I’m going to fill it with hot water and dip into it with the wash jug that’s kept in the bathroom. I figure I should be able to get at least three, maybe four rinses.
Tabby follows me, purring, and tries to push in front as I lug the steaming bucket up the stairs. I stop to let her go past, adjusting my tote on my shoulder, wondering what her hurry is. Reaching the landing, I pause for a breather, my hands on my hips. Imagine doing this twenty or more times to fill the bath—ridiculous! I pick up the bucket again with both hands and stagger down the hallway. Tabby pads ahead of me towards the bathroom door. However, when I reach it, I hear a splash and clink from within.Damn, I thought Dain had gone to the parsonage. I’ll have to wait until he’s finished.But my water will get cold. How annoying. Maybe I can use the kitchen sink instead. I’m about to turn around and go back downstairs, but Tabby nudges the bathroom door open with her paw, slips in through the crack ... and I catch sight of a soapy penis.
Oh dear God.I press back tightly against the wall, my heart pounding fit to burst. Closing my eyes so tight I see stars, my common sense tells me I should inch slowly towards the hallway with my bucket. But, reader, I’m a hot-blooded woman; and call me a Peeping Tom, but curiosity takes over. Somehow, I find myself jutting my eye into the crack to get a better view. And whoa, what a view it is.
Dain, in all his pale naked glory, is standing in the bathtub, slowly stroking said soapy penis. His eyes are closed, and a smile flits across his lips as if he’s enjoying the sensation or thinking of a scene in his new smutty novel.
My throat constricts, and heat rushes to my cheeks. I should not be watching this! But my eye is glued. At this point, a ten-tonne truck couldn’t drag me away.
The stroking gets faster and firmer, and Dain emits a low guttural moan. OK, definitely thinking of a scene in his new smutty novel! An echoing arousal blooms in the base of my belly, and the back of my neck starts sweating. Oh lord, he’s going to ... My pussy clenches in joyous anticipation.
Maybe it’s instinctive from being watched, or he’s distracted, but Dain suddenly removes his hand (much to my acute disappointment) and finishes soaping the rest of his body—a treat in itself. He twists to grab the flowered water jug sitting on a nearby stand, displaying a lean, but muscular back and the curve of a delectable twitching buttock. Standing upright, he tips the steaming jug over his head. Hot water sluices down his sculpted chest, washing away the white suds, his long pink member bobbing merrily in its thatch of dark hair under the cascade. It’s the most erotic thing I think I’ve ever seen and definitely worthy of a mention in any spicy novel. I lick my dry trembling lips. Wiping his eyes, Dain reaches for a towel folded on the side of the tub, glancing up as he does so, and I jerk back from the door.
‘Hey, what are you doing in here?’
My heart leaps into my throat and does the Macarena.Shit, he’s seen me.But Tabby mews in reply, and I breathe out in relief. He’s talking to the cat. There’s a sound of wet flesh slipping against copper as Dain gets out of the bath. He’s chatting with Tabby, some kitty cat nonsense. I need to leavenow. If he comes out and discovers I’ve been watching him jerk off ...The shame will be unendurable.
Hardly daring to breathe, I creep down the stairs, one step at a time, with my bucket and tote. My foot slips halfway, and I almost go careening down them on my backside but manage to right myself at the last minute. Bloody hell, there’d be no way I could hide that commotion. Dain would find me at the bottom of the stairs, soaked, with a bucket on my head.
Scurrying as fast as I can to the kitchen, I heave the bucket up to the sink to pour the hot water down the drain. But it’s taken me so long to boil I’m reluctant to get rid of it. I can’t think straight. Dain’s naked body keeps flashing into my mind.
I can hear his footsteps running down the stairs. So I grab a clean mug from the draining board, scoop it into the bucket, and plonk in a teabag. Dain strides into the kitchen, jiggling a finger in his ear to get the water out. His white flowy shirt is half unbuttoned, showing off that lovely smooth chest, which is glistening with droplets of water; his dark hair is damp and brushed back. He looks heart-stoppingly handsome. My glance flicks to his crotch, and I note that his black trousers are tented. He’s still erect. I swallow hard as desire floods my body.We could do it, right here in the kitchen, if he wanted to ...
‘You all right?’ he asks, noticing that I’m staring at him wordlessly.
‘Y-yes. I’m making tea.’
Dain looks confused. ‘Why are you using a bucket and not the kettle?’
‘Oh, er, I boiled extra water ’cause I was thirsty.’
Dain brightens. ‘Good idea! I’m in the mood for a big cuppa.’ He reaches into the cupboard and grabs the largest mug.
‘Uh, I just have to go and do something,’ I mutter.
Stumbling dazedly to my bedroom, I close and lock the door.
