1.7. Warm Shower
He took her shoes and socks off, and threw them with his shoes and coat. He led her into the bathroom and sat her on the side of the tub. He turned on the water, testing it on his wrist like baby formula, not wanting it to be too hot and burn her. When it got to be the right temperature, he pulled her up. She just stood there. He wondered if he should take her wet clothes off now.
They had been living together for about a year and a half and he had learned a few things about her very early on. While she was sure to let you know if she was mad at you, she rarely showed any other emotion. He was sure she would not like him to see her like this, having lost control of her emotions; he doubted she would like him to see her even more exposed. He also knew, however, that he could not leave her because if he did, she wouldn't do it herself. He decided that perhaps getting her into the shower would warm her up enough that she will do the rest herself. Plus she'd get colder in the open air. He stepped into the tub and then grabbing onto her waist lifted her into it, positioning her body under the stream of water. He held her there for a minute while the water poured down her. It flowed over her skin easily, but the folds of the clothes made small rapids. There is no way she is getting warm if she still has these clothes on. She stood staring straight ahead, through his chest.
I don't want him to see me like this. Her brain screamed at her, but her body was stubborn and refused to move. I give up…
"Neela?" She gave no indication that she heard him. "Neela, you need to get out of these clothes." Nothing. As much as I want to undress her, I'm sure she does not want me to. He tried letting go of her waist. She immediately began to fall forward.
I can't do this.
"Neela, I'm going to take these clothes off you…" he was hesitant. While he had been wanting to undress her since the moment he met her, this was certainly not how he wanted it to happen. He took a deep breath, hoping that by invading her privacy he was doing the right thing. But what else could I do?
He shifted his hands so they were grabbing the hem of her shirt instead of her waist. He began to lift her shirt up but she wouldn't move her arms, and he couldn't pull it up past her belly button.
I can't do this. Why do you care so much Ray? It's killing me. It would be so much easier if you'd just give up.
He paused, wondering how this was going to work. Then, sliding his hands up her sides he lifted her arms up and put them on his shoulders. She moved them slightly so they were holding his neck. He felt his heart jump. When has anyone ever made my heart skip like that? I feel like a teenage girl! Pushing the thought aside, but not able to ignore her hands holding his neck, he continued what he had started.
Once again, he grabbed the hem of her shirt and began to slide his hands up revealing her toned stomach and perfect skin. He realized this was going to be like undressing an infant…he lifted one of her hands from his shoulder and guided it through the sleeve, then replaced her hand on himself. Doing the same thing on the other side, the shirt now hung around her neck. He lifted her head with both of his hands to slide the shirt gently over her face. When she looked up at him, he realized the wetness running down her face was not just from the shower.
Give up, Ray. I am not worth this.
Seeing her cry and not knowing why pained him. But he continued. Reaching behind her, he gently took her hair down, to let the hot water rinse out the coldness. He slipped the hair tie around his wrist and slid his hands down her neck, and shoulders to the middle of her back, and unclipped her bra. No longer restrained, the cups didn't pull her breasts into her body. They pushed against the fabric, freed. He again slid his hands up her back and shoulders, grabbing the straps and continued down her arms. Lifting one of her hands to release the strap, her bra now hung over his chest, the other strap still on her other arm. Removing that one, the bra fell to the tub on top of her shirt. This is going to be the hard part. Stopping momentarily, he couldn't help but look at her half naked body in front of him and see how beautiful her skin was, smooth and brown, and perfect.
Don't look too carefully. Please don't look too carefully.
Wishing desperately she was not hurting and that he could be touching and feeling and loving her body, he knew he had to silently continue. Dropping his hands to her waistline again, he pulled the tie holding up the scrubs pants. Being wet, they stuck to her body instead of falling, having lost the binding holding them up. Sliding his thumbs into the sides of her waistline, he started to push his hands down, gliding over her smooth hips. He paused when he reached the top of her underwear. Well, what is the point of dry clothes if you have wet underwear? Taking a deep breath, he slid his thumbs under the band of her underwear too. As much as he loved the thought of undressing her, he wished the uncomfortable nature of the situation would snap her out of the state she was in. It didn't. He continued to push down until he realized he could no longer remain standing upright to support her andcompletely remove her wet pants. He paused, unsure of how to continue. Hoping she would stay standing he began to squat down to lift her feet out of the wet scrubs. She kept her hands around his neck until he was too low for that to support her and she shifted her hands, supporting herself by the top of his head. He lifted each of her feet just enough to slide the wet clothes off her legs. Her feet were still cold, but he thought they were at least starting to warm up. As he stood back up, her hands fell down from the top of his head to his neck, and then continued down his chest until they reached the hem of his shirt. She was standing there, naked, in front of him, her hands slightly lifting his shirt. His hands returned to her waist, and he just stood there, taking in the situation.
For the first time that night she voluntarily lifted her head. She looked directly into his eyes, not through them like she had earlier, but into his eyes. Again she pulled gently up on the bottom of his shirt. She wants me to take my shirt off? Or am I seeing what I want to see again? Desperately not wanting to do the wrong thing, he just stood there, looking deep into her eyes. One more time she tugged upward on his shirt. He decided he wasn't taking it the wrong way, and peeled off his own shirt. After all, I am also all wet and have to change too…His shirt joined her clothes on the bottom of the tub. Then she leaned into him, putting her ear against his chest, and slipping her arms around his waist.
You not giving up makes this so hard.
He knew he liked her, but now he realized that he could not love something more than the woman he was holding in his arms. He pulled her closer to him, not wanting to ever let go and they stood there. This is new… being perfectly content with just holding a naked woman in my arms. I really just want to hold her. He pulled her a little closer, if that was even possible.
Don't let go.
After several minutes, he slid his hands up over her back, shoulders, arms, hands, and then up through her hair. Even her hands seemed to have returned to a normal temperature. Against his desires, he pulled himself away from her enough to turn off the water. He reached out of the curtain and grabbed a towel off the rack. The whole bathroom was warm and filled with steam, but he wanted to get her as dry as possible before taking her out of the shower. He dried her off as much as he could and wrapped her up in the towel. Whoever told me to never skimp on towels was so right he thought as he wound the big fluffy towel around her. The thought brought a half smile to his face.
Realizing that he was still dripping wet, he sat her back down on the edge of the tub. He pulled the other towel off the rack, briefly dried his upper body, pulled off his own wet pants and wrapped the towel around his waist pulling it up to his belly button.
That was close.
Why did he pull his towel so far up? Not that I care. Well, yes I do care. That's a stupid thing to care about Neela. But it's true, he consciously pulled that towel higher than he usually does.