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What else could compare to the pleasures of a hot bath? Chest deep water, a flotilla of toy boats adrift in a sea of bubble bath and a large glass of an old Cabernet were his idea of bliss. Nothing was ever quite so relaxing after a hard evening of slaughtering Fingermen.
He had, of course, stopped to take a quick shower first to wash the blood off. Pink tinged bubbles, while attractive, did not bear contemplating. Who would want to soak in that?
He cast a lazy eye over the monitor mounted on the bathroom wall. He didn't like to read in the bath as there was too much danger of damaging a precious relic so he'd decided to put up the monitor so he would feel less guilty about the time he wasted soaking. Currently, he was surveying a Norsefire warehouse he planned to raid later for jam and other supplies.
A loud scraping noise in the gallery had him hurtling forward in the bath, spilling his wine in the process.
"Blast it, what now?" He put his glass down carefully and reached for the remote to change the monitor's view to the Shadow Gallery.
Evey was dragging the piano bench across the gallery floor, hence the scraping noise.
What on earth was she up to? He thought she’d gone to bed hours ago. And what was she holding behind her back? He zoomed the camera in closer and turned up the volume, leaning back in the bath and reaching again for his wine glass. Gloves. She was holding a pair of his gloves.
Evey pondered the bench, like it held the secret of the ages. She looked up and back down and skewed the angle of the bench to better suit her purposes, whatever they might be. Then she nodded her head.
"Much better," Evey muttered.
She sat down on the short end of the bench, feet primly together, back upright, face forward, looking for all the world like she was waiting for a number 28 bus to Brixton, rather than sat on a piano bench in the middle of the gallery wearing only a nightie. She examined the gloves now resting in her lap before raising her bare hands to the sides of her neck, pressing gently into the muscles.
She must be sore. Evey had taken to doing some light workouts with him over the last few days, anxious to learn self-defence.
Perhaps she was too shy to ask him to rub her neck… Worse still, perhaps the thought of his touch repelled her. He risked a glance down, glad that most of his flesh was concealed by the bubble bath.
Evey lowered her hands back to her lap. She pulled his gloves on slowly, pulling V forward in the tub toward the monitor.
Perhaps there were therapeutic benefits to leather of which he was yet unaware.
Evey's gloved hands slipped down to cup her breasts.
Did breasts get sore? It would seem like the only logical reason for anyone to wear a bra.
Evey adjusted her position to lay flat on her back, humming quietly to herself. Her hands moved slowly down her body, caressing her breasts, stomach and thighs.
Definitely massage. Perhaps he didn’t repel her after all. If she needed to be massaged in those particular areas, he could see why she wouldn't want his help.
Evey's hands stopped moving. It looked to him like her breathing rate had increased.
Strange. He’d always believed that massage was supposed to slow one's breathing.
She raised her feet to the edge of the piano bench, drawing up her knees.
She obviously knew what she was doing. A good calf stretch would certainly help with her soreness.
Her gloved hands inched down to the hem of her nightie to grasp it and pull it slowly up past her breasts. Evey let her thighs fall open.
Why wasn’t she wearing any knickers? He didn't realize how much stronger his grasp had become on his wine glass until the stem snapped in half. He looked at it blindly, laying it down on the bath’s ledge.
Evey's hands moved down between her legs and his breath quickened.
Oh. That was why she isn't wearing any knickers. He felt something bump against his body. He looked down. One of his toy boats had run aground on him, where his cock emerged from the water.
Evey's hands pressed harder between her legs, one hand appearing to hold herself open for his closer inspection, the other rubbing slowly against her flesh.
His erection wouldn't be ignored. He stared at it in disbelief then wrapped on hand around it, just to see if it was real.
He looked back up at the screen to see first one, then two of Evey's leather clad fingers disappear from view.
It felt... solid. Perhaps a little more evaluation was needed, just to prove that he wasn’t hallucinating. His hand moved hesitantly on his shaft. Apparently a good massage was well overdue for both of them.
Evey's pace increased.
His did too, causing the little boats in his flotilla to endure their first tsunami.
Mutual satisfaction culminated in a calm sea.
He sat back in the bath, enchanted. At least he was no longer a danger to shipping.
Evey slowly sat up, smoothing her nightie back down over her thighs in a demure fashion. She looked straight up into the camera set in the roof over the bench and spoke.
"Good night, sweet prince." She blew him a kiss from the palm of one sticky glove. “Oh and by the way V, these gloves will need a really good cleaning."
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