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There were a lot of things on my bucket list, both daily and life in general. For example, I wanted to stand on the edge a live volcano. Not just some boring one either, but one with real lava in it. I wanted to stay the night in a castle. Go ice fishing. Surf big waves in Hawaii. And someday, preferably after I had a son or a daughter to enjoy it with, I wanted to build a really kickass treehouse.
Right now though, all I wanted was a hot shower.
I pushed through the changing area, pulling my clothes off the whole way. They smelled like sweat, and adrenaline — not a particularly bad smell, really. Not a great one though, either.
I dropped them on the same bench I always did, between the two rows of lockers.
Treehouses…
Yeah, I thought about that one a lot, actually. I’d even come up with some designs. The blueprints were in my head, and constantly shifting. So much so, that I really should be writing them down…
“HEY!”
I turned and there she was, floating naked in the steam. Her hair looked much darker while wet. My eyes followed the rivulets of water as they streamed downward, washing the soap off her body.
“What the HELL, Randall?”
She covered herself quickly, throwing her arms over her breasts. She had fantastic breasts. And the little washcloth she was dangling over her ladyparts wasn’t hiding much of anything.
“Hey sugar,” I said, jerking a thumb. “I brought us some towels. They’re over that way.”
There were six showerheads, but only two of them worked. She’d taken the second one. I walked past her, straight to the back, and turned on the last.
“What are you doing?”
“Showering.”
“I mean… why are you doing it now!”
The head squeaked, and the water sputtered as the air was forced out of the line. God, I hated this showerhead. It had shitty water pressure.
“Because I’m dirty?” I shrugged.
“YES BUT I’M IN HERE!”
She was still covering herself, still trying to keep me from seeing her goods. Which was perplexing, because she had some really fine goods.
“C’mon,” I smiled, finally stepping into the stream. “You’ve seen a man naked before, haven’t you?”
She looked me up and down for a moment… lingering at the down part. That was just fine by me. I winked at her again.
“And I’ve seen a girl or two in my time,” I grinned. “Although not too many with curves like that.”
She was built for performance, I could tell that straight away. Strong and lithe — very athletic. Muscles and sinew, hidden just beneath a delicious layer of babyfat.
“Stop looking at me,” she demanded.
I laughed again and slicked my hair back. “Why?” I asked. “You’re looking at me, aren’t you?”
I held my hand out. When she did nothing, I shook it expectantly.
“Soap me?”
Slowly, reluctantly, she reached out and handed me the bar of soap. She had to step out of the stream to do it. She also had to uncover a bit.
“Peaches listen,” I said soothingly. “You’re absolutely fantastic but I’m tired as all hell right now. I wanna see my pillow a lot more than I want to see your…”
My sentence trailed off as even more of her tantalizing curves revealed themselves. They were so incredible, I felt the blood in my veins shifting to make all new accommodations below my waist.
