“hello.” “hello.” rustle of clothes. flush! “hello!” she is about to hang up when she hears:
“did you switch on the geyser, dear?”
“yea, i did.” flush. moments later water hits the shower curtain. he stretches his hand to feel if the water is hot, satisfied he turns on the cold water to mix the water to the right temperature. satisfied, he steps into the shower. she imagines him picking up the shower gel and pouring it on the face towel, and then scrubbing his groin first.
“mind if i sit here and watch?” she couldn’t see him but the nearness of him, behind the shower curtain was orgasmic.
“no my, love. there’s nothing you haven’t seen before … you wanna help me scrub my back?” he pulls the shower curtain to the side slightly to reveal his naked body. The steam rose from behind the parted shower curtain. she can imagine his soaped body.
“ooh i see the water is not cold enough … i’ve missed you big boy” wet cloth against body. she knew what part he was washing from the slurshing noise. the red mist rose to her head.
“i missed you hush puppy … sure you don’t wanna join me?” she can imagine him soaping himself. she contemplates joining him and giving him a good scrubbing.
“nope. i will bath when i get to jozi … wanna carry you back with me. i just wanna watch your every muscle and charlie and think of the joy it gave me last night.” the fact that another woman had enjoyed what she thought was hers made her heart race and knees weak. she remembers sending him a text a while ago when they had just started going out of not being able to sleep until she thought of his naked body against hers … toilet bowl flap hits bowl. she has also sat on that toilet seat and watched him bath so many times in the past.
“you’ve put on some weight, that’s good.”
“you think?” soap bar hits the holder. the noise is jarring in her ear. slurshing sound – she knows what part he is washing. he always washes the back with soap, shower gel is too slippery he says.
“yep. as long as you don’t grow a beer belly.”
“me beer belly? never.” he is spitting water onto the shower curtain right this moment.
“you’d look funny with a beer belly.” she thought of the time when he had actually put on some weight and grew a slight pouch – she had made him hit the gym to remove it.
“you know. babe, do you have to go today?” she loved it when he called her that. she felt betrayed hearing it now.
“yea. i need to get back to jozi and rest tomorrow … don’t wanna give my new bosses any excuse.” he doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have his way – she obviously doesn’t know him that well.
water hitting shower curtain.
“why don’t you come over next weekend?”
water hitting shower curtain. the whole bathroom is now steamed up.
“i’m talking to you.” his mind is racing. how will i get away. what excuse will i use? i am supposed to be in francistown this weekend – that’s what i told her.
“what took you so long?” toilet bowl flap is lifted. piss hits the bowl.
“i need to drink more water.” toilet paper rips. toilet paper against skin.
“oh, sorry love. but does it really work as in the movies?” water filling the tank. toilet bowl flap hits bowl. she can imagine him smiling. he is a practical joker.
“you know how it is with the movies.”
“which of the two waters go – the hot or the cold one?” she draws a heart on the steamed mirror.
“the cold one … ooh, i’m done.” he switches the water off.
“that was quick. are you sure you washed all my parts thoroughly?”
“yep. besides, i have no need to remain under water if you’re not joining me.” sees the drawing.
“ooh, two balls hanging upside down.”
“that’s a heart, you dummy. freshly pressed.”
“looks like two inverted balls to me. you know, the heart symbol was actually the shape of a contraceptive.”
“you lie! where?”
“roman era. you and i know, the human heart looks nothing like this.”
“that’s why it’s a symbol, dummy.”
“nope, not originally. that thing you drew on the glass is the shape of the seedpod of the silphium plant, a herb used as birth control in the roman era.” he looks at it again, smiles then bends and gives her a kiss.
“do you know the jesus fish was originally the symbol of the female genitalia?”
“trust you to think of it like that,”
“i swear it’s true. was called the vessica pisces, and it represented every fertility goddess at the time.” looks at the drawing that has started to drip. “the balls are dripping.” wipes the steamed up mirror.
she hears her laugh and knew exactly what she was thinking, that head of his thinks in an unusual way, and that’s what makes him such fun to be around. she imagines him sharing such naughty fun with someone else. her oasis has become a mirage in the desert of love-land. she imagines him wiping off with the face-towel, stepping in front of the mirror she imagines him applying hair cream and brushing his hair. he is an animal of ritual.
“hmmm, nice view.” bathroom cabinet door opens. rustling noise. tap running. toothbrush on teeth. spit into the sink. toothbrush on tongue. choking sound.
“why do you always do that? i bet your neighbors can hear you.” she imagines him spitting into the sink, looking at her before answering.
“as long as it is not you. we wouldn’t want them imagining you have something else in your mouth.” laughters. the red mist is making her dizzy.
“how come that never happens though and then you grab a little brush …” she imagines her giving him a zero-on-one.
“it’s the shape of the brush … it’s sharp.” she gets up from the toilet bowl.
“give me a hug … hmmm you smell nice and warm.” that’s the hugo boss red shower gel i bought him for his birthday. she felt as red as the tube that holds the gel.
“it’s not the bath.”
“silly boy.” laughters. “get dressed before you catch a cold.”
“please pass me my shorts.” rustling sound as she picks up the shorts. more rustling as he reaches for the phone in the shorts’ pocket. she presses the red button, and waits. breathless …
oh, i didn’t hear the phone ring, he muses. he tries to call back over and over again. she watches the phone ring over and over again, tears in her eyes. how much did she hear? he wonders. the bathroom suddenly feels cold. she starts to gather his clothes from the wardrobe …
© F-K Omoregie 2016