An Evening with Bill

She has a thing about her nose. She claims it's too big. When she smiles she says it covers her face. I personally like it.

She has a thing about lines too, the lines around her mouth when she smiles. She complains that they deepen every day. I like those too. Her smiles.

Her eyes have a way with me, something I hadn't experienced before. When we first worked together I thought it was contempt, that glare she had, not a glare, barely an emotion there, somehow vacant but brimming with intelligence and questions. She would only look at me with her most serious expression. Until I finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. Barriers down, smiles flowing.

People wouldn't believe how silly she can get. How much fun she is. That she laughs almost all the time outside of work, that she likes to dance, be it out somewhere with a band or just at home, swaying around the kitchen as she makes a pretence of making dinner.

She tries to cook, bless her; it's not one of her strongest points. She can make a mean vegetable lasagne though and she'll tell you the perfect wine accompaniment to any meal. She has great plans for all her culinary expeditions; they just don't always turn out how they look in her head. I guess we've all had that happen.

In the evenings… That time has quickly become my favourite time of the day. In the evenings she is usually relaxed by nine, after a late dinner and our ramblings about the day. Neither of us sleep early, if not one then both of us is usually late home from work, we made it a bet at one point – who could make it home first. I won three days in a row and then she wanted to stop playing! She hates to lose.

Work again after dinner, though she has music on in her study, I prefer the silence but she likes the music, helps her relax she claims.

When it stops I know she's done and I hasten my own tasks so I can spend whatever time we have left of the night.

As I make my way upstairs, already anticipating seeing her, I slip my T-shirt off and head straight for the bedroom. The lamps by the bed are on; she made us buy a new bed when she moved in, I quite enjoyed that. I can smell her, taste her in the air, and the gentle light is coming from under the bathroom door, a shaft of light in the otherwise dimly lit room.

Sliding the door back I take a step into the hazy room, and simply stand still and enjoy the moment. Full length in the bath, arms hanging along the side, a glass of wine in one hand. The foam of her bubblebath covers most of her legs and over her lower stomach, and above a few stray clumps of bubbles, swaying over her body like clouds. Her breasts look smooth and creamy in the water, and I remember the feel of her nipples in my mouth and reach for the fastening on my trousers.

She lifts the glass to her hand and takes a long, leisurely sip before she speaks.

"You took your time," she almost drawls, utterly seductive.

Her glass is placed on the floor and she turns her head a little to observe me, "Not in a rush tonight?"

"It's Friday, and the first Friday we haven't been out in weeks. I'm enjoying the slowness of the evening."

"Alright," she smiles very gently at me, that twinkle she gets when she looks at me that way, an intensity almost in her eyes. I told you nobody ever looked at me that way.

I'm naked within minutes and she performs her usual ritual of sliding back in the tub and lifting herself a little, raising her legs so her knees stick out of the water and I can slip in at the opposite end. The water is warm and divine and my body melts into it, instant karma. I rest my fingertips on her knees and she slides her legs back down, feet on my chest. It's a slight push so she can get what she wants, but I don't mind.

Her toes wiggle impatiently and I grin and kiss her left foot before nibbling on her toe. She giggles; "Bill…" and I stop.

"Alright madam, I shall perform my duty."

"It shouldn't be a duty, or a chore, I thought you liked doing it."

"I do," I add gently, she already knows this. I knead each foot individually, taking a heel in each hand and working her skin, she insists on wearing heels despite the fact she spends all day on her feet.

"What time are you out tomorrow?"

"Break of dawn, I want to jog and then Tennis at the club."

Her nose wrinkles, "What time is Tennis?"

"10," I kiss her feet again and feel her thighs slide against mine.

"Don't jog, stay in bed with me."

I feel her wiggle a little and the promise of making love to her first thing in a morning when she is soft and warm and so very loving is beyond decision… "Yes," I mouth and let my head drop back.

She sits up; her feet drop down my chest, reaching for her wineglass and then forward, handing mine to me. She always pours me one, I have no idea how she knows I'll always be able to get up here and share her bath.

"What's your favourite part of me?" She asks this often, it's become another game, something silly we do when nobody else is around, and I answer the same every time.

"Your nose."

"Liar," she smiles and I sense laughter in her voice as she sits back again, one of her feet trailing up and down my chest now, the other leg sliding to my right side and resting in the water.

"I never lie," I reply, but my head is still laid back, eyes closed, if it wasn't for her words I'd be asleep within minutes. "And what's your favourite part of me?"

She sits forward again, the clink of her wineglass on the floor and then her warm hand sliding around my fingers as she takes the glass from my hand, my wine still untouched, and places it next to hers.

Her legs are gone now, and for a second the water covers most of my body as she rises in it and then kneels in front of me, arranging herself so she has a good angle over my body. And I like this game best. It doesn't happen every time and I enjoy the baths anyway, but when it does… god it's the most glorious thing that has ever happened to me.

"Well?" I tease, not yet lifting my hands out of the water to touch her though I'm dying to.

"My most favourite part of you?" She kisses my chest, "Hmm… let me show you."

And I'm gone.

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