Ariel heard the sadness in his voice. She hoped he was sincere with his apology, hoped he would seek help, and hoped he wouldn’t try to track her down with what she was about to say.
“Steven,” Ariel spoke slowly, “you should know that I took half of our joint savings to have money for my new home.”
“I saw that.”
“I wasn’t trying to piss you off. I’m entitled.”
“Calm down,” Steven replied. He sensed a bit of tension in her words. “I’m not upset and yes, you are entitled. We both have been adding money to that account for years.”
“Don’t worry, when I was in the credit union, I removed myself from the account,” Ariel explained.
“Hmm…very noble of you, even though I’ve never known you to be vindictive.”
“Just being fair.” Ariel paused unknowing what more to say.
She appreciated Steven’s gesture and somehow believed a different, more civilized person was speaking to her.
“Well,” Steven said. “I just wanted you to know what I was planning. I won’t hold you.” Steven paused. The realization that he wouldn’t hold her in his arms saddened him. “Good luck with your new place,” he said and fought the notion to ask the location.
“Thank you.”
“Sounds good.”
It appeared they played a game of who would end the call first. All it accomplished was another moment of uncomfortable silence.
“That must be the furniture people,” Ariel said upon hearing a knock on the door.
The distraction was great timing. They needed something to break the awkward moment.
“Got to run,” Ariel said. “Let’s talk soon.”
“Sure thing.”
They ended the conversation with an understanding of separate lives. The living room furniture Ariel purchased was ultra-modern leather pieces, angular in design. She chose a bright-red color to offset the varying shades of pastel wall paint. She sat on the footstool and mentally chose a new color for each room. The living room where she sat, the dining room, kitchen, bedroom and bath were all slated for a makeover.
Ariel stood, cautiously walked toward the bathroom for no other reason than a need to be there. It summoned her like a ghost’s whisper. She walked into the plush bath that had yet to be decorated and gazed into the mirror trying to find a sensation familiar to her. After moments of examining herself, the sense of belonging and the presence of another were absent. She turned around, rested her butt against the pedestal sink and a notion called upon her once more. She closed her eyes, held them shut for a moment, then her head turned to the left as if she was sniffing down a scent. When she opened her eyes, the oversized tub was in sight.
Ariel dug through a box on the counter. It contained bathroom necessities and other things to pamper herself. She pulled out a twenty-four pack of votive candles, placed them strategically around the tub and placed another item on the floor before she started a steamy bath draw. She had no rational reason why she only lit every other candle; she just did. She then turned the bathroom lights off. The multiple flickering flames created an array of different feelings within her. She tossed the head of a single rose into the water and waited for the petals to separate before entering the alluring bath. She then carefully stepped over the burning candles and stood in the tub.
Ariel anticipated lowering her body into the deep, hot bath laced with baby oil. She lowered to her knees, splashed water on her thighs to help adjust the water’s temperature. Ariel supported her weight with both hands, respectively on each side of the tub, straightened one leg in front of her, then the other. At a snail’s pace, she bent her elbows to descend her body into the water. The baby oil-laced water felt like liquid silk as her legs slowly submerged under the water. The sting of the hot silky water on her womanhood forced an arched back; she composed herself and ever so slowly lowered her body into the water. The water level was just below her breasts in the full sitting position. She placed both hands into the water, immediately felt
her fingers energize with warmth and cupped her breasts with her hot hands. Her sensitive nipples were pressed centered under her palms.
Ariel wasn’t prepared for the erotic sensation the fire-like hand gave her. It was damn near an aphrodisiac. Needless to say, the hand-to-breast maneuver became repetitive. It eventually led to nipple pinching with fiery fingertips. She had difficulties determining whether the self-pleasing or the water’s temperature made her forehead sweat, but streams of water began to roll down her face. The one sure thing was that her womanhood demanded attention. One hand swam toward the yearning.
Damn, all of my toys are boxed, she thought.
She touched herself, it felt different. Maybe it was the new sense of freedom, or possibly the aura of her new home, but something had changed. Then it hit her—she was now able to please herself without the repercussion and the thought excited her more than any tongue lashing or hard-on Steven ever gave her.
Ariel carefully reached between two burning candles, picked up the plastic item, submerged it under water and waited for all air bubbles to stop. Seconds later, Ariel moved the flesh from around her jewel and then shot her clitoris with liquid bullets. The water gun’s stream was strong enough to penetrate through the bathwater and tantalize her cherry in a pulsating manner. Each pull of the trigger felt like a makeshift shower massage. The good part was, she had an endless supply of ammunition as long as her trigger finger still had strength to pull the trigger hard. Within minutes, the water gun’s jet stream had her in full moan mode. Not only was her forehead sweating, all non-submerged body parts had rivers of water feeding back into the giant lake-like bath. Oddly, she wished she could hear the sound of rain.
Ariel had reached the boiling point. Her flesh was not to touch, her blood pressure rose to where her erotic state couldn’t combat the sense of dizziness. Her trigger finger halted, the gun remained underwater, but normal breathing was a difficult task.
“Shit, I’m too hot,” she panted.
She stood and steam rose from her skin as if she was emerging from the deep fryer. She waved a hand at her head attempting to cool herself. Yet, her jewel spat on the neglect. It throbbed and reminded her that it hated to be teased. She crossed her legs, held them tight attempting to control the beast, but the move was the prelude for what she did next. Her fingers exposed the clitoris naked to the universe. Then, as if she needed to slay a beast that just wouldn’t die, the trigger finger moved in a rapid session. The liquid bullets without the bathwater’s resistance felt more like the pressure from a fireman’s hose. The intermittent sprays instantly caused her body to jerk. She accepted a challenge within herself to climax before the pistol ran out of water. The machinegun-like spray ignited a roar within her. She took a deep breath and held it captive for a moment.
“Aahhh!” she bellowed in a loud-pitch rising tone.