Bathtubs

Chapter 1

A red drop fell into the water. The deep plop sound echoed from the narrow ceramic tile wall. The red core sank into the clear white water. Fingers of red strings meandered out from the core. At first, they looked like the mane of a mare. Then, the twines of read got so twisted and discombobulated that an entire unicorn was visible expanding liquid cloud. The shapes invited dreaming.

The young woman with the snow white skin, dark locks of hair, and bright red lips kept pressing the razor blade into the inside of her arm. The blood gathered in the skin crevice the blade had pushed. With enough blood reaching critical mass, another drop ran down her ivory white skin. Her skin was oily. The blood held onto its own without leaving a trail.

The blade felt like a lemon on a hot summer day. The pain isn't there because the thirst is so overpowering that all there is that refreshing feeling, that rejuvenating feeling, that feeling of new strength from a wild shake. Do you know how after a very hard and sweaty bicycle ride, the neutral tasting water has the most delicious sweet flavor in the world. The body craves it so much. The blade felt good, so god damn good, so alive. There is hope in the world because she can feel herself, because she is no longer lost, because the pain and the life running out of her anchors her in the here and now.

She carefully lays the sharp blade on the edge of the bathtub. She lets the tub water lick her cut. She lets her life blood float out. She lets the water turn her into a pruney plume. We gather our strength when we find ourselves.

Chapter 2

"Alter cocker"

Breindel talked to himself. He let his saggy bit butt fall into bathtub. The big belly helped sending flood waves across the bathtub. The waves reflected back from the tub wall and fought with each other a battle that would have tossed any sailboat into despair. He let his hands fall into water with a big platsch. To fit into the small tub of the Brooklyn walkup, he had to bent his knees like a butterfly pose in yoga to let them poke out. But, ah, the warm water felt so good.

Nude is no clothing. Naked is when we are exposed. Hi skinny legs and skinny arms against the fat bulk of his body was exposed. The hanging flesh from age was exposed. The hair that had grown gray was all over his body. There were age spots, warts, curly body hair, body wrinkles. His nose had red exploded capillaries. He was an alter cocker who only got attention for his loud voice challenging anyone for a debate. There he was naked like a baby.

With a warm smile on his face, he glid the soap up his arm. The bubbles formed by the collision of water, soap, and friction trailed the soap. An angelic expression came over his face. With calm movements, he careened over his arm in a pattern like a Zamboni. He grabbed the face towel, freshened it up with water, and rinsed of the soap. The walls held the half-light of the late afternoon that flooded through the milky window pane. The gently gurgling sounds of water from his labor of love were upheld by the silence like a painter inflicts a master stroke on a blank canvas. He carefully cleaned the space between his toes with the face towel. He mumbled with a dismissive shrug, "alter cocker."

Chapter 3

The baby gurgled with laughter. Its hand splashed the water. It held the water hovering just above the surface, a little like a retard. It laughed at what it had done. With big blue eyes, it looked up to the mother for approval. A warm love broke out in her heart, gazing at the pink fleshy gums that were yet to grow teeth. "OO-ah-haha," the baby cooed itself to try the daring stunt again. The water splashed again, foils of white rising up and an echo that filled the bathroom with life and love.

A golden light flickered against the ceramic tiles. Warm air made the mother and son cozy. The humid air was easy to breath. A fluff of bath foam clung to the baby's still mostly bald head. She watched his facial expression: the simplicity of big eyes, big mouth, and big cheeks. Everything was so big and straightforward about his face. He was happy. He was surprised. He was cozy. He loved pulling on her. He lost his interest in the water surface and that was it. The yellow rubber ducky was the entire focus of his world.

She held him against her body. All she had to do was hold him, purity of relationship. He loved her. His body relaxed onto her chest. His fingers every curious, those little kraken fingers that open and close, grabbed her cheeks and pulled them. Those soft little nails. The harsh pokes at her face that filled her with the gentlest emotion. A slumber overcame them both, skin to skin in skinship.

She let herself slide into the water with him on his chest so that his body submerged back into the warm. He was breathing thirty breaths a minute. That little body was pushing onto her like a little pulse. He coughed for a moment, and there was that smile again.

Chapter 4

Akiko reached her arms to the side to stand like a T. With perfectly upright posture, her well trained and slender body stood motionless. A servant with her eyes cast to the ground in respect rushed to pull the blue and black kimono off Akikos body. A flower petal fell from the cherry tree in the garden and slowly glid to the ground. The gardener rushed to take it away. With perfect pose, she stood nude in the garden, never naked, always full of grace.

She walked on the stone path to the center of the Japanese garden. She walked up the steps to the bath. Her slender calves bunched up to extend the toes. The toes dipped into the bath. The heat of the water was only noticeable in the slight blush on her cheeks. No part of her body reacted to the pain of overly hot water. As if timed by the ceremony master, step by step, her body descended into the water until the still surface had taken her up to the neck.

Motionless, she remained in the center of the bath. Her eyes looked over the lawn, at the manicured trees, and the low house with the paper windows. An artificial stream ran from the house, around the bath into a koi pond. The fat orange, white, and red fish slowly drifted around. Everything was in place. Everything had been perfectly tended to an hour ago by the royal staff. The samurai stood in onyx black armor stood with the hand on the kodachi sword. The archer stood in a lunge on the roof. The bow was drawn ready to release at any moment. The point of the arrow slowly circled into every direction.

Akiko reached back for the chop sticks in her hair bun. She let her jet black hair fall loose. This is what freedom feels like.

Chapter 5

"Charlie, we found the motherlode!"

"I call dips on the bathtub!"

Charlie stepped into wooden house. The wood boards on the floor had been partially broken. The paint was peeling of the exposed wood pieces. The windows were covered with nailed tarp. Broken, rusted, and unidentifiable plastic, paper, wood, and metal remains of household items were on the floor. Charlie's boots were dirty and grimy. He shuffled his way to the stairs. Carefully, he stomped on each store before committing his weight.

On the second floor was the bathroom. The mirror had been smashed in. Yellow dirt from years of neglect was everywhere. The under the sink cabinet had the doors smashed in. The contents had been cleared out a long time ago. A random brick rested in the sink.

The bathtub faucet still roared with fresh water. A big, two inch diameter rush of pure and beloved water droned out. The piping was singing, pinging, and rattling with activity. A rug in the drain kept the water in. Despite all the grime in the house, the water was so clear that it was see-through.

With all his clothes on Charlie let himself fall into the bathtub. Yellow, gray, and brown dirt seeped into the water until the tub looked like a brackish marsh. His face melted with bliss. The joy of clean filled him. The freight train riding life is hard.

Chapter 6

The water churned. Air bubbles burst from Lisa's face. They rolled over her cheeks to the surface. Her hands thrashed on the slipper bathtub surface to get enough leverage to push back. Jerome had slid his fingers up her neck to scoop her hair between his fingers to get a good grip on her hair. With that perfect grip, he was pushing her head into the water.

He was 180 lbs. of New Jersey muscle. His hair was curly. He had a milk boy face. His ass was bulbous and hard tensed as he was driving his cock inside of her pussy from behind. She was red haired and pink nippled. She was tender with a well-endowed bust. They lay on top of each other in the bathtub.

His face was fighting with a wild look that got interrupted by him biting his lip to hold himself back. Then, he thought the better of philosophizing and focused again on the hips that thrashed into her. The water splashed out of the bathtub onto the floor and soaked the bathroom rug. Watching his muscles flex was a prime demonstration of anatomy. There was no fat. The muscle definition was so clear like a textbook drawing. Lisa was fighting hard to reach the surface of the bathtub. He looked over at the clock on the sink counter that counted down from 10 seconds... 9 seconds... 8 seconds.

The intense fight in the water stopped on a dime. Lisa gently tapped the side of Jerome. Jerome instantly pulled her head out of the water. He braised her torso to keep her out. Gently, he pushed the wet hair out of her face, so that she could catch her breath. With a full body hug, he steadied her. With gasping breath, she stammered out: "Thank you. This was the best orgasm that I've ever had."

Chapter 7

The light was out. Flickering tea candles lined the white bath tub. A glass of red wine stood at the ready in the corner next to the soap. A soft piano concert played in the living room stereo. The foam was stirred up to a nine inches towering, solid mass of tiny bubbles. Their popping was the almost imperceptible sound that was only perceptible because of the deep silence. A baritone opera singer came on with something dramatic about life and death resolved in a plush, velvet covered opera theater.

Amanda had lowered herself into the water, so that only her nose peaked out. The warm embrace covered her mouth, cheeks, and eyes. Despite the precarious hold on breathing, she was not alarmed. The warm lull had relaxed her so much. Her toe reached out for the wheel of the water controls just to ease a little hot drizzle into the already warm water. Like the frog in the heating pot, she raised the temperature more and more. Another degree here and another degree there. The heat made her succumb to a trance.

The water buoyance gave her the feeling of near weightlessness. Her ears were under water. All the sounds were hushed, except for the eerie exotic underwater sound of the drizzle piercing the surface. She opened her mouth. She let the water freely run in and out of her: surrender, utter surrender. Her hair and all the fatty parts of her body wafted in the water. Little air bubbles collected on her skin from the stillness. They grew until their buoyance pulled her off her skin to send them towards the surface.

Amanda exhaled all the air out. She locked her throat and let herself go completely under the water. Peace.

Chapter 8

"Drum on! Drum! Drum little stick!"

The words rolled out of her mouth. The lips mangled and twisted as emotions tormented her. Spit strings pulled between opposing lips. Her mouth was a big gaping hole, dull and dumb like that of a fish snapping air on land. A weeping howl escaped her vocal tones to chase along the words.

"Drum like nothing ever happened. Drum like that's all that you are good for."

The brain has that switch. Like a demon and angel wrestling, she pushed back on that switch as hard as she could. Stem against it with all your might! She tried not to breathe. She thought cutting of the air would strangle that hand pushing the switch. Don't! She tensed her head. She tried to focus on her breath - that quivering diaphragm.

Flip! That demonic power flipped the switch with such ease, like a demon breaking a little girl's arm for sport. She knew what was coming. The quivers in her body burst open. The waterworks in her eyes lit up like the fountain lake in front of the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Her mind's canvas blanket to one emotion: "Oh, this is so unfair!"

In that bout of sobbing, she could feel herself. She could feel her love for herself because she was worth crying about. She let the tears roll down her face. The water in her tub took all the tears. Peace.

Chapter 9

Silence. Quietude. Stillness.

The morning fog lifted little openings as the opaque mist rose of the ground. An old man with gray hair, the eyes closed, moved in deep reverence through the water. Wrinkles spoke of many things seen and experienced. The wetness of the bath gave the old man a second youth. His body swayed left and right like a gentle caregiver soothing a baby.

In his arms, lay a young woman. Her neck and shoulders were cradled in his left arm, where he was holding her close. His left arm was under her thighs to hold her close in a sacred hug. The water gentle caressed over her body. He turned peacefully in a slow spiral with her on the perimeter. Little eddies swirled in the water behind. Her eyes were closed. The facial expression was deeply sunken back and surrendered. All the tension had vanished from her face - making her look five years younger.

He grabbed her leg, lifted it over his head, and placed the back of her knee on his shoulder to float her up. He held onto both her hands with his respective hands. Her body was pointing away from him. As such, he spiraled her around the pool. Her free leg was dragging behind in the wake, gently undulating with the jet stream resistance of the water. A deep sigh escaped her lips from the bottom of her soul, some faraway and well protected inner sanctuary of her true self and all that she protected from the world.

His name was Harold Dull, the inventor of water shiatsu in the sacred mountains of Northern California.