After his shower, Brock put together a tray with ice, the magnum of champagne, and a pitcher of orange juice to take with him to the tub. 

     Estelle waited for him there. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

     "A little woozy, but...fine."

     "You're more than a little woozy. You're drunk." 

​     "Why do you say that?"

     "The way you looked at me just now. You haven't looked at me like that since our first year." 

     Brock blushed and chuckled. Busted. He'd taken a good, salacious gawk at Estelle's nudity as he lowered himself into the tub. Because of the hump on her back and small size, Estelle always reminded Brock of an egg when she had her clothes off. Her breasts were just large enough to be cupped, although it had been a long time since Brock had thought to cup them.

     Now it was Estelle's turn to chuckle. "What are you ​staring at?"

     "I...I was just..."

     "No. Don't. Anything more you say right now will just screw things up. You know what, though? Look. We've still got some of that shit on us." She pointed to a spot of brown residue in the tub with them. 

     "Back under the shower?"

                                                   CONTINUE