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Bath
"I used to think that God lived in our bathroom; I'd often see my father banging on the door, shouting, `God, are you still in there?'" As dictated by Kel It was about midday that Kelly regained consciousness. Some time during the night, the bedclothes had slid off the mattress, taking her with them, and she awoke to find herself tangled in a mass of black silk sheets wedged between the bed and the dressing-table. Sue-Lee was still asleep on top of the mattress, hugging a pillow. Kelly reached over and tickled the exposed sole of her foot. Sue-Lee giggled and rolled over; they hugged, kissed and were about to get carried away again when Kelly wondered, "Where's Kolya?" "The last I saw of him, he was crawling around under the dining-room table, asking everyone, 'Gdyeh vannaya?' ...so, who's Vannaya? I don't remember inviting her." "It means, 'Where's the bathroom' ... What, was he going to throw up?" "Again? I don't think so ... he did say something about wanting to find a quiet place to sleep." Kelly got off the bare mattress, stood up somewhat shakily, draped herself in one of the black silk sheets and prepared herself for the sight of the living room -The Morning After. It did look like a bomb had hit it. The body count out here was low; most of them would be in the bedrooms, although she did spot one or two casualties trapped under the overturned couch. Stepping carefully over the mostly empty Dom Perignon bottles, she made her way over to the hallway. It looked like a scene from the Blitz; motionless forms wrapped in blankets lined the entire length of the passageway, and as she searched for clear spaces to place her feet, she suppressed a giggle, thinking of a Warner Brothers cartoon she'd seen once where Sylvester the Cat had to make his way through a back-yard filled with sleeping bulldogs. She couldn't avoid stepping on the occasional leg or hand. The bathroom door was wedged shut, but she managed to convince the couple that were entwined against it to move long enough for her to force her way in. The downstairs bathroom was huge; the black marble-finish bathtub was as big as a bed ... There was a familiar foot poking out over the edge. She smiled, and grabbed it, trying to drag him out. He was unconscious, so she decided that some cold water might wake him up. She leaned over the tub and turned on both taps full blast. He groaned; getting up was presently beyond his capabilities, but he tried anyway, only to fall back into the water, which was now about two inches deep and rising. "You're going to drown if you don't get out of there," she said. "Good. Could you turn the hot water up a bit? If I'm going to die, I want to do it in comfort." She complied, and added a quantity of 'Put A Tiger In The Tub' bubble-bath as well. As the bubbles threatened to cover his face, she was obliged to reach in and drag his head above the rising water level. He clumsily pushed her aside and lay back, sinking below the surface. "Stop that, you twit. Come on ... wakey-wakey ..." The silk sheets were becoming cumbersome as they got wet, so she disentangled herself from them and got into the bath, sitting astride his stomach, putting her hands around his shoulders, trying to lift him into a sitting position. He protested weakly. "Please, let me die, or at least cut my head off for god's sake, I swear I'll never touch a drop of Remy Martin again ..." "Snap out of it, dushenka moya, you're raving!" He giggled, "dushevnobalnoya moya ... ha ha, that's very funny ..." She managed to get him sitting up at last, and moved closer, kissing him and rubbing soap-suds over her breasts with his hands. After a minute of this, there was no reaction. "You must be dead!" "It's an unfortunate condition known as 'brewer's droop'. If I'm still alive by Tuesday - god forbid - you might like to try again." She pressed against him again, kissing him hungrily and slowly pushing him back under the surface of the water. Someone outside banged on the door and called out, "Are you going to be very long in there?" "YES, WE ARE!" they shouted together, struggling up again. "Oh, teddibly sorry." She slowly leaned forward, nibbling on his upper lip as they sank back down, kissing through the warm, soapy surface of the water. They slid back until his face was directly under the tap, just as someone in the upstairs bathroom started using the hot water. The torrent of cold soon brought Kolya closer to the land of the living. "Arrghble!" she began to giggle at the strangled noise he made, but soon stopped when he recovered enough of his strength to sit up, push her over backwards and force her head under the surface momentarily. She managed to get in one solid knee to the groin, but that didn't have any effect - he was completely alcohol-numbed. She threw her arms around his neck and dragged him down into the water with her, wrestling him over onto his side. He was sufficiently awake now to more effectively return some of her caresses, splashing warm water over the expanse of hip that projected above the layer of bubbles that sat on the surface, which was growing deeper as water plunged in at one end of the bath. She sighed and poked her index finger in his mouth as he ran his hand over her hip and thigh; she raised her knee, allowing him to slip his hand underneath... nikolai? You tell them what happened next. I can't remember. |
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