WETLOOK STORIES AGAIN

Ralphfred2

copyright 2014

May not be re-published without permission of author

One morning, I was alone in my apartment eating a solitary breakfast around nine o'clock, when I heard a knock on the door. I have been a bachelor since Sandi left a couple of years ago, and I was not expecting anyone. Have you ever had a messy house or apartment, and felt unprepared for a surprise visit? Well, that is how I felt at that moment.

When I opened the door, Sandi walked in, carrying her shoes, with the air of never having left. Sandi didn't ask if she could come in. She just did. She threw her shoes into the corner of the living room as if she owned the place, and as if we had never split up two years earlier. I mean, shouldn't you ask permission before just barging into your ex's apartment and then throwing your shoes into his living room? However, she looked great, and I was speechless. Moreover, I was very glad to see her, so glad that I quickly closed the front door, and unsuccessfully tried not to smile from ear to ear.

“I know you have gone all beach bum and everything, but this building could use a bit of work. Have you ever thought of cleaning up around here?” With that, she just swept the cluttered contents of the living room table onto the floor. All that junk mail that had piled up for months. Well, the table had been cluttered and so it seemed better now. She could have burned the contents of my apartment and I would hardly have cared.

“There, that's so much better!” She threw her purse and keys down where my stuff had been a minute ago, and, as if her entrance were perfectly normal, she asked where the bathroom was.

Sandi wore a blue jeans jacket over a starched pressed blouse, with a nice denim skirt. She looked ready for work or something, so I asked her what brought her to town.

“Oh, some stupid interview with a marketing firm this afternoon, but it's not til one, so I thought I would see how you were doing. Not too well, by the look of your living room. Still into the minimalist school of furniture, I see. I don't even want to know what's in your fridge, probably nothing edible, that's for sure. Is the bathroom right or left? I'm about to burst.”

I did have milk and a frozen pizza in the fridge. What was wrong with that? But I was mentally off balance from everything that was happening. While I was still thinking about the pizza, Sandi just bounded into the bathroom and closed the door.

I was trying to sort through some conflicting emotions, but a minute later she was back in the living room.

“The sink thingie is well . . . you'd better see for yourself.”

What sink thingie? First the table contents all over the floor, now the bathroom sink? She had only been here a few minutes, and already my mind was not functioning properly. Some sort of confusion gripped me. Perhaps a malaise of some sort.

“The sink?” was all that I could manage to say.

Sandi smiled at me as though I were some sort of deranged individual.

She took my hand, and pulled me towards the bathroom. Before I could comprehend what was happening, we were in the bathroom, as though we had just teleported there or something.

The drain in the bathroom sink was closed, and it would not open. Odd, because it had never clogged before. The water faucet was on full blast, and the sink was just starting to overflow. I turned off the faucet but just a little too late.

“Why did you leave the water running?”

“Oh, so now your defective faucet is my fault? Now look, you've stepped in the water on the floor, and there's gunk all over the floor.” Before I knew it, Sandi had gotten my last clean towel from the linen closet and wiped up most of the water from the floor. She had only been here ten minutes, at most, and already things seemed to be in a state of confusion or something, but before I could say anything, Sandi reached down, slipped off my sandals, and threw those into the other room.

Now, my apartment was only one block from the beach. I was in the habit of coming back from the beach, stepping into the shower in my wet shorts, and emptying out the sand from the beach, which always seemed to fill half of each pocket. Simple, right? I lived alone, so if there were a little sand on the bottom of the shower, who cared.

As Sandi finished sopping up the last of the water, she turned to throw the wet towel into the shower. She then looked up at me with the kind of expression reserved for a poor, dumb animal.

“Oh my God, no wonder they are talking about dredging the harbor and piping sand onto the beach! All the sand is on the bottom of your shower!!”

Well, there was a certain gray, granular coating on the shower floor, but it wasn't THAT bad,or was it?

The water in the shower was now on, blasting some humidity into the bathroom, kind of like the fog in my mind. I didn't turn on the shower. Why was the shower running?

“Come on, we have to clean out this shower!!! I can't leave this wet towel in there with half the beach on the shower floor. My God, this is soooo uncivilized.”

Uncivilized? That was a bit low. While I mulled that over, she pulled me in and we stood in the part of the shower mostly untouched by the spray.

My shower was like a walk in closet. You walked in on the left side, but the shower head was on the right side, pointed at the opposite wall. There was no shower door. You could stand on the left side, and remain more or less dry. Just a little spray hit our feet, but . . . .

“Look at all these shampoo bottles. Don't you use one completely before opening another?”

Well, It was sort of like squeezing out half the toothpaste, getting impatient, and reaching for another tube. So, in one corner of my shower, there were about a dozen, sand coated containers of Blue Kegsudsapoo, the bargain shampoo brand. Eighty-five cents a bottle, so I bought a dozen. Two quarts each, so plenty of bang for the buck. Somehow, they were all in the shower, but no sense putting them in the cabinet. They were for the shower anyway, so right where they were supposed to be!!

Sandi opened one bottle and playfully held it over my head. Now, I was alarmed. Things were getting out of hand, that's for sure. All in about ten minutes!! I was supposed to see a client in an hour, and he was one of those punctuality guys.

I was stern, very stern. “Sandi, not now, put the bottle down now!!”

There, assert some control. After all, this was my apartment, and my bathroom and . . .

“Here, it's empty” she sang.

“Look, there's nothing in it. You should have thrown this out a month ago. Here, I'll show you.”

And, with that, she squeezed the bottle. Not much came out but I felt a little of the patented blue Kegsudspoo syrupy shampoo adorn the crown of my head. This was too much. Who did Sandi think she was, fooling around on a work day, with no consideration for anyone else. Now I'd have to get the shampoo out of my hair. No time for a shower before heading to the meeting with Bob. And I was unprepared for the meeting too. I had not reviewed my notes again, like I always like to do.

A flash of petulance hit me. Without any thought, I picked up a fairly full bottle of Kegsudsapoo, with it's patented syrupy, sudsy formula. The cap was already off this one.

Sandi backed up a little, and the shower stream, on full bore, was within a centimeter of hitting the back of her neatly pressed denim skirt.

“No, let's think about this!!” she shrieked, and I just dumped the entire two quarts onto Sandy's lustrous, thick brown hair. One minute, her hair was shiny, bouncy, and quite lustrous. The next, blue syrupy Kegsudsapoo was oozing down all sides of her hair and face, coating and flattening her hair as it headed downwards.

The slurpy blue Kegsudsapoo then hit the collar of her denim jacket, going inside and turning Sandi's shirt collar a shiny blue. Next, it fell over and thickly coated her breasts, now covered by a very shiny, solid, thick liquid coat of Kegsudapoo.

Sandi just screamed with laughter, picked up another two quarts, and dumped them all over my head. At least the shower was getting a good cleaning.

I looked at Sandi, all coated with blue Kegsudsapoo, her hair flattened, her denim jacket covered with the shiny, gooey shampoo, and I kissed her, hard and long. It had been two years, and suddenly she seemed so beautiful, covered with a thick coat of shiny blue Kegsudsapoo.

I kissed her back a couple of steps, into the shower stream. Suddenly, a cascade of suds flowed down Sandy. I reached under the denim jacket, and it just slid off her body, and hit the bottom of the shower with a resounding plop!

Sandi always starched her blouse, but now it was coated in a shiny veneer of blue suds. The shirt was glued to her breasts, so that you could see the details of her black bra beneath. Some sort of flower pattern, and I started to work in the suds with my hands. Didn't think about it, just did it. I reached down for another bottle, and poured it all over Sandi's blouse, I really massaged it in, and Sandi just quietly moaned with little noises of contentment.

The avalanche of suds poured down Sandi's blouse, over her breasts and flowed downwards, invading her nice expensive looking patent leather belt. The river of suds invaded Sandi's belt, and flowed inside and on top of her nice denim skirt. The skirt had been a kind of sky blue, but now it was a dark navy blue, sopping wet, soaked and drenched.

The river of suds poured onto Sandy's feet, and then backed up near the shower drain. Sandy pulled me down onto the shower floor. She was all slippery, sudsy and wet. Her hair, which had been so full five minutes before, was now half covering and plastered to her face. Some sand was still at the bottom of the shower, and some golden grains of ocean sand now speckled and painted her dark blue drenched skirt.

I fell on top of her, reached down and ripped off the buttons of her blouse . . .

We stayed in that shower for hours. Afterward, we dozed, as luxuriously as if we were in a five star hotel. The water still ran when I awoke.

I did not know the time nor did I care.

Sandy awoke, and pulled me towards her.

All she said was, “tomorrow, you can show me the beach.”

I laughed and kissed her again.

Copyright 2014.

Wetlook stories and wetlook blog may not be re-published without permission of author

All rights reserved