She looks up. She looks across the table at me.
"Okay."
She keeps eating. She eats slower. I keep watching her. I am doing it on purpose because she is letting me. We have a new arrangement in this room this morning that is eight minutes old, and I am practicing being in it.
---
After breakfast I wash the plates. She tries to stand to help and I tell her no. She sits in the henley at the table and she drinks a second cup of coffee. She is so very beautiful. All long legs and lazy morning hair.
"Evangeline."
"Yes."
"I'd like to do something for you."
"Okay."
"I'd like to run a bath."
Her hand stops on the mug.
"I can run a bath by myself, Max."
"I know."
"You don't have to."
"I'd like to."
"Why."
"Because I want to care for you in the way that you deserve to be cared for.”
She looks at me.
She looks at me a long count. Her throat moves. The pink at her cheek comes up a half step.
"All right," she says.
"I'd like to wash you. Every part of you, I want to be clear about what I'm asking."
"What are you asking?”
"I'm asking if I can bathe you. My hands washing your body tenderly giving you the care that you deserve.”
"Will you touch me sexually?”
“No, I will just worship you.”
“Max, you can wash me." She is beautiful and seductive as hell and I can’t take my eyes off her.
I let a breath out of my nose.
"Thank you."
"Stop thanking me," she says.
"No."
