not a foregone conclusion, at least not on my part.
And now, three weeks later, this scenario was unfolding exactly as I had written it. Here he was. My first fantasy man.
The sound of running water grew louder as I neared the staircase. My hand seized the balustrade and I noticed my bare S.E.C.R.E.T. chain peeking out from under the sleeve of my blouse. Quietly I climbed, careful to keep my feet on the carpeted part of the stairs. Then the sound of water stopped, and so did I.
“Dominic?”
“I’m in the master bath!” he yelled. “I found the towels.”
I slapped my hand over my heart to calm it some.
“You can come in, Solange. I’m decent.”
Oh dear lord
. I made it to the top of the stairs and turned down the hall to my bedroom, feeling my stomach clench.
I’ve never had sex with a complete stranger. What am I doing? Am I crazy?
The ensuite bath had both a shower and a tub, and Dominic was just stepping out of the shower, a towel secured around his sculpted waist. The dusky light from the glazed window blurred the room, or maybe it was the steam, or the fact that I was vibrating. But this bronze Adonis was dripping water all over my tiles and I’d never minded anything less. I realized my breath was shallow and I tried to force it lower into my system to prevent fainting at the sight of him, his taut skin, his thick arms, his bare feet planted solidly on the floor. I pulled oxygen deeper into my lungs, the way I had learned how to in Lamaze classes …
Lamaze! I have a kid! I shouldn’t be … STOP thinking
.
Dominic was smiling the smile of a man who understood his effect on a woman.
You’re going to get yourself naked in front of this man, Solange. And you’re going to be okay with it
. The tub next to him was full, bubbles floating on the surface, a row of lit tea candles along the back ledge. It was very pretty.
“I took a quick shower and ran a bath at the same time. I probably used all the hot water in the house. My apologies.” That smile again.
“That’s all right,” I said, massaging the back of my neck.
“I think the water temperature is okay. Wanna check?”
His eyes stayed on me as I crossed the room. I leaned over and dangled my fingers in the sudsy water.
“It’s nice,” I said.
“Why don’t you get in? And … I’ll get you something to drink,” he said, perhaps sensing my shyness about undressing in front of him. “Any requests?”
Oh thank god
.
“Yes. That would be nice. Some water, maybe? Glasses are in the dining room hutch. Or wine. Maybe wine? There’s an open bottle in the fridge door.”
I watched him disappear.
Doitdoitdoit
. I quickly slipped out of my skirt and blouse, piling them (neatly) on the vanity. I slipped out of my bra and underwear and slipped them under the pile of clothes. I tested the water with my toe,
Ouch
, a bit hot, but fine, no time for inching in.
I sunk to my collarbones, my body neatly concealed beneath the bubbles, my knees now brown mountains with soapy snowcaps sliding off them. I loved my tub—a beautiful white oval model, one I’d picked out when I realized Gus and I were going to remain in my childhood home and I renovated the master bedroom and ensuite. It had seemed so decadent at the time to install a whirlpool tub, but I did use it. It was often my only means of relaxing.
A few minutes later, Dominic came back up the stairs and into the bathroom, a sweating glass in one hand, his towel still clenched in the other. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around my knees, concealing my breasts, and averted my eyes from his seemingly airbrushed abs. He
was so … this was too …
“Here you go,” he said, handing me the glass.
I accepted it.
“Are you comfortable?”
I nodded, took a sip and carefully placed the glass on the tiled corner of the tub. He kneeled next to me on the floor.
“Because if you’re not comfortable …”
“No. I’m fine,” I said, choking a little on the wine. I knew the