Harry walked to his room. The balcony creaked beneath his feet. He placed the metal key, wet with his sweat, into the rusted key hole. But he did not turn it. He heard a noise coming from the room next door. Her room. They had left the door open. Quickly, Harry looked around to see if anyone was watching him. Perhaps his wife. But this area of the village was deserted. He paced up and down his balcony, before swiftly walking onto the balcony of next door.
He could hear the noise more loudly this time. He knew what sort of noise it was. His heart beat fast. Quietly, he peered around the door and into their room. It had a different layout to his, or perhaps, they had changed the layout to suit themselves.
It was a freestanding bathtub. One of the Victorian ones with the little legs to hold it up. The light was reflecting from its shiny surface. They were inside the bathtub. Cho's pale skin looked milky in the daylight that streamed through the window. Her black hair was strewn carelessly over the edge of the bathtub, cascading down like a waterfall. The bathtub had no water in it. Her eyes were closed and Harry could see faint wrinkles in her eyelids. Her mouth was open in a round o-shape.
Romilda had her head between Cho's legs. From this angle, Harry could see her tongue, flicking in and out of her mouth like a snake, flitting across Cho's clitoris. Harry could see the glistening saliva on Cho's skin. Cho held a plump breast in her hand. The nipple was large and pink. It was wet, as though Romilda had held it in her mouth, played with it with her tongue, eliciting small moans of pleasure from Cho. Romilda had swirled Cho's nipple in her mouth, and Cho had liked it. She seemed to shine almost angelically. Her toes curled over the edge of the bathtub.
Romilda was getting faster, her naked back arched like that of a cat. Cho was getting louder. Her hands moved from her chest and ran themselves through Romilda's knotted hair, holding Romilda's face to her genitals so that her pleasure might last longer. Harry could see her knuckles, white, gripping.
Harry watched the scene, transfixed. As he saw the women there together, he noticed the gentle curves of their figures. Cho's breasts and face, Romilda's arched back and fleshed buttocks. He focused on Cho again. She seemed so heavenly and pure, and Harry longed to touch her, to run his hands gently down her back and around the lump of her bottom, to grip her supple body and hold it still. He wanted to press his face into her hair and hear her moan as he moved. While she was beautiful and Harry desired her desperately, she was passive. She did nothing but recieve pleasure, never returning it. He turned his back and left as he heard Cho scream in orgasm.