The spa
"Aarrgghhh…" Peter moaned softly as he adjusted his aching body, hunting for that ever elusive position that would cause him no pain.
"You okay, baby?" Carla called out to her husband across the dark bedroom.
"Fine," Peter grunted.
"Peter," Carla's voice was soft, full of empathy; she knew how much he still struggled with chronic pain, despite the surgery. "Is it your hip again?"
"Yeh," he said with a heartbreakingly commingled sigh and sob.
Carla quietly swung her legs over the side of the bed, switched on her bedside lamp so that the room was illuminated by a soft and cosy glow, and rose to her feet.
"What are ya –?" Peter asked, watching as she padded to the closet and, grabbing her robe, slipped her arms through it and fastened it snug around her waist, before grabbing Peter's robe and approaching the side of his bed.
"You're coming with me," she said, holding out the robe for him to step into.
"But –"
"No arguments, mister."
Peter had no intention of arguing; he knew his wife and when she was determined to do something, nothing would stand in her way. So he struggled to his feet and gratefully slipped into the robe, standing obediently like a small child while Carla fastened the tie securely around his waist.
"You're probably gonna need this," Carla said as she hoisted his walking frame from the corner of the room and positioned it in front of him.
"Do I have to?" Peter hated that walking frame; using it made him feel so old and useless.
"Well, I ain't carrying you back to bed if you have a fall, so…"
Peter didn't respond, he merely gripped the frame and peered inquisitively at Carla.
"So… Where are we going then?"
"Follow me and find out," she said with a cheeky grin.
And so slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Peter and Carla crept quietly down the hallways of the home, destination as yet unknown to him, but eagerly anticipated by her.
"Carla!" Peter called out to her in frustration as they made a turn into another corridor. "I'm tired, I can't –"
"Shhhhh!" Carla hissed at him. "You're gonna wake someone!"
"Where are we going?"
"Here," Carla said, gesturing towards a set of heavy glass doors.
"The pool?" Peter shrugged, still confused.
"And spa."
"Oh," Peter suddenly realised Carla's end goal. "Nice. Very nice. But…"
"What?"
"It's locked at night."
"Ah, but that doesn't matter," Carla said mysteriously. "If you know the security code."
"How do you –?"
"You know that orderly? The young one?"
Peter shrugged and shook his head.
"You know who I mean," Carla said. "The cute one. He's really tall, works out, beautiful blue eyes…"
"You think he's cute?"
"Yes, I do," Carla stated matter-of-fact. "Nowt wrong with that is there?"
"Well, I dunno," Peter huffed. "Just how cute is he?"
"Cute enough to flirt with, that's all."
"Oh, so you flirt with him as well as perve on him?"
"And one day when we were talking," Carla said, ignoring Peter's crass inference, however true it might be. "I saw him enter the code."
"Nice work, Mrs Barlow."
And so Mrs Barlow entered the code she'd learned from her cute orderly and they both slipped quietly through the doors and into the darkened aquatic facility.
"Oh, damn!"
"What?" Carla asked as she switched on the spa, watching in satisfaction as the jets whirred into life and a soft cloud of steam rose from the warming water.
"We didn't bring our bathers."
"Who needs bathers?" Carla asked, her one eyebrow raised suggestively, as she began to strip off. "Don't worry, Peter, I've seen it all before."
"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Peter asked in awe as he watched her, fully naked now, step into the spa and sink down into the water.
"Yes," Carla said. "You told me so this afternoon. Now get your kit off and get that tush in here."
What was Peter to do but obey? He flung his robe to the floor, his pyjama set following shortly after, and eased himself into the water opposite Carla.
"Oh," he moaned softly as the hot water and the jet stream began to work their magic.
"Does that feel good?" Carla asked.
"Oh, love," Peter said, exhaling with a long, satisfied sigh. "This is so good."
Carla watched her husband with a smile, happy that she could help ease his pain, even if just for a few moments.
"You know what would make this even better?" Peter asked, staring across at Carla, looking directly into her eyes.
"What?"
"If you came over here and sat on my knee."
So Carla floated the short distance to the other side of the spa and perched on Peter's knee, draping her arms around his shoulders as his arms wrapped around her waist.
Peter gazed up at this woman, this kind, beautiful woman who'd dedicated her life to him, and all thought of the pain that riddled his body disappeared; nothing else mattered, except his sudden overwhelming desire to kiss her.