Vohne leaned against the doorframe in silence.
He loved peeking at her when she slipped in her bath, every evening.
She had elevated bathing to an art that could compare to a Japanese tea ceremony. Her hands brushing on the countless jars and bottles, choosing her fragrance du jour carefully. Her svelte body wrapped in a light pastel robe, she sat on the side of the tub, waiting patiently as it filled up.
He knew he could always walk in the room, and make conversation to entertain her. But he never dared to trouble her communion-like silence. She could have slipped in the warm waters as it poured in, but she always waited for everything to be perfect. And when it finally was, she would untie her robe, and let it slip on the floor, baring her ethereal silhouette.
Peeping Tom, watching her naked form riding the dream of a good time, she was his very own Lady Godiva… And he felt incredibly lucky to be allowed to caress her ivory skin with a tender gaze. Sometimes, he caught a slight shiver, her shoulders twitching as the contrast of the coolness of the room, compared to the promised warmth of her bath, surprised her.
When she finally slipped a toe in the milky water, testing it down to her ankle, he would take a first step back. He stayed, though, to watch her silhouette disappear inch by inch, underwater. His full moon getting eclipsed slowly just under the steaming surface… Until he could only see her red locks, little island in the tub.
Then only, he’d turn around and walk away… Already looking forward Cibelle’s next bathing ceremony…
Picure by Andrea Torres