Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Story - white home
She closed the heavy oak door behind her. There were three dead bolts. She slipped each into place. She stripped naked at the door way dropping every shred of clothing in a neat pile just inside the door. She padded barefoot across the hard wood dining room floor to the kitchen. Under the sink she found the box of green garbage bags. Taking one from the box she returned to the hallway and picked up the bundle of clothing there to stuff it in the bag. Walking back through the dining room and kitchen she deposited the bag of clothing beside the washing machine. After adding dry soap, she put all the clothing into the washer. With the dial at warm she turned it on and left it to fill.
Naked she walked to the large bathroom. The tiles were uniformly white. She’d replaced all the original fittings with stainless steel. Standing just outside the spray zone she turned both fawcets on adjusting the heat to hot, very hot. She stepped in the shower and slid the mirrored door closed behind her. She backed into the almost hard heated stream of water feeling it cascade off the nape of her neck down her back to her buttocks. She waited that way for some time, steam rising in the rather large shower cubicle. Eventually she turned feeling the water hard against her somewhat ample breasts. Finally she ducked her head under the stream before standing again with her back to the spout. Some time passed before she picked up the soap from the hanging stainless steel basckett and lathered herself all over, all over. She used a white hand soaped hand cloth and rubbed the cloth over all of her including each foot as she leaned against the white tiled wall to run the clothe between the toes.
At last she reached for the coconut shampoo and lathered her long black hair before using andalusian scented conditioner copiously. She turned the hot water Fawcett down so the water cooled to nearly cold as she turned slowly letting the water wash her glistening squeaky clean.
Stepping out of the shower she reached for a heavy large white towel and rubbed herself dry, knotting that towel around her slim waist. With another large white towel in her hand ,she bent forward at the waist and wrapped her hair in the towel wearing it on her head like a turban.
A white spa robe hung on the stainless steel hook behind the door. She let the towel around her waist slip to the floor as she slipped one arm then the other into the robe pulling it closed in front tying the satin rope sash across the front.
So loosely attired she walked out of the bathroom, turned on the lights and followed the hall to the sumptuous shadowed living room. It too was all white. A white shagg rug. White leather sofa. White leather chairs. Glass table. She lay on her back on the sofa. Her robe fell open. She let it. Looking down between her breasts she saw her flat belly and the black mound of hair between her legs.
She thought about her. Then she thought about them . She closed her eyes. She could see her pretty young oval face in her minds eyes just as easily as she saw their faces disfigured by bullets and blood. She heard the washing machine finishing it’s cycle. She would have to move the wet clothes into the dryer. She thought of touching herself.
Leaving the sofa she returned to the washer and drying moving the wet load to the drier, adding softener , adjusting the timer and turning the machine on. She liked the low rumble sound of it working. Always had. In the kitchen, she took a bottle of perrier water from the fridge, selected a long stemmed wine glass and poured herself a drink. She took a musck scented candle from the glass paneled cupboard beside the stove. Lighting it with a long stemmed match she watched it flicker then glow. With her glass of Perrier and litted musk candle she returned to the living room. Again she lay on the sofa.
And thought of her. Would she appreciate what she had done?