Shiny When Wet  

Truth was, he usually preferred to shower alone. When he was first seeing Karen, she’d routinely join him and well, sometimes it was annoying. It’s not that he never liked her getting in with him. Sometimes he did. For obvious reasons. He never claimed to be Saint Jim of Irish Spring.

But a quick morning shower before work, or on a Saturday afternoon after his basketball game and before their inevitable dinner reservations (what ever happened to grabbing a burger at the diner, or just ordering a pizza and not having to wear his fancy new clothes on a freaking weekend?) That was different. It felt intrusive then, like there was nowhere - not at work, not at home, not even in his own fucking shower - that he could be alone. Funny, given all the things they did together, that ordinary showering somehow felt too personal to share.

He knew he was an ass for thinking like that. She only wanted to be close, only wanted the intimacy he should have been willing to give. His discomfort wasn’t her fault; so many things weren’t her fault.

Karen was not unperceptive, however, and she was clever at work-arounds, both at the office and at home. On the nights they stayed together, she soon began rising early, to give him his space. He was grateful for that, but he knew that’s not what she was after.

****************

Pam drags herself out of bed and groggily follows him into the bathroom. She pulls his t-shirt, which she must have untangled from the sheets at some point during the night, over her head. It lands on top of the hamper of their laundry, already practically overflowing onto the tile. Her eyes aren’t even quite open yet, when she steps in beside him. She slides her arms around his waist, leaning into him so heavily that he thinks if he stepped back an inch she’d fall to the floor. He lets her rest there while she wakes up, her cheek warm against his chest. The hot water hits his shoulders first, then streams down over her back. When she’s fully alert, she rises on her tiptoes and kisses him once quickly, before reaching for the shampoo. Her fingertips work over his scalp in rhythmic swirls. It feels good. So good.

 ‘What?’ she asks.

He only then realizes that he’s staring down at her. It’s the first word they’ve spoken all morning.

‘Nothing. You just look…shiny,’

‘Well, I’m wet,’ she grins, amused. She snatches the washcloth from his hand and lightly flicks him with it for emphasis.

‘Oh, yeah…right’ he chuckles back, aware that he sounds like an idiot.

They need to hurry or they’ll be late for work again.