"I can't stand my chair right now," Brock said. "It's got that shit all over it, still. I cleaned a bun​ch of it off, but..."

     "Say no more." Estelle scooped Brock up to carry him to the shower. 

​     "Hey! I didn't..."

     "Shh! I'm trying to do you a favor. Be grateful."

     "I feel your nipples pressed up against my hip."

     "You want to do me a favor, Brock?" 

     "Name it." 

     "The way I'm holding you, your penis is...you think you could hold your hand over..." 

​     "Oh. Oh sure. I'm sorry."

     "Not your fault."

     They both managed to hold onto their sippy cups the entire time.

     Once in the bathroom, Estelle sat Brock down on the toilet. She dropped his plastic bath chair in the tub, then dropped Brock in the chair. 

​     "I'm going to wash you," she said as she soaped up a washrag. "I want to make absolutely sure that crap is absolutely off both of us. You with me on that?" 

     "Absolutely." 

​     "Cool."

     They got halfway through their drinks before she finished with the parts of Brock's body she could get to.

     She never touched his penis. 

     She handed him the rag.

     "You finish," she said. "You want me to turn my head?"

     Brock took the rag from her. "It's a little late for that, isn't it?"

     After he finished, he said, "Now it's my turn to wash you." 

​     "Is that how it works?"

     "It's only fair."

     "After the day we've had, you're still talking fair?" 

     "Come on, Estelle. It's our last night together." 

     Estelle looked at the shower curtain like it would give her some clue as to how to proceed. Then,

     "Yeah, okay, but there are two areas of my body you can't touch." 

     "Your lower back and front?" 

     "The back's no problem. It's the upper and lower front I want you to stay away from. Can you handle that?" 

     "I'll take a shot. I make no promises." 

     "Hurry up, then."

     She let him wash her body for about thirty seconds before she pulled the rag out of his hands. "Here. Give me that. You don't know what in the hell you're doing. And while you're at it, close your eyes. You're staring at me too much. I'm turning off the shower for a second. I need to use the attachment."

     "What am I supposed to do?" 

     "Count to a hundred. No, count to a thousand." 

     "I'm cold."

     "Your goosebumps are cute."

     "A thousands's too..." 

     "I'll tell you when to open your eyes. How about that?"

     She needed to get up into her private, private parts, get herself completely cleaned out. She used a shower attachment for the job, and that felt pretty damned good, too. Something just the slightest bit uncontrollable rose up inside of her.

​     "You counting?" she asked him.

     "You want me to?" 

     "You're counting. How far along are you?"

     "548" 

     "Did you just make that number up?" 

     "Yes." 

     She got a look at him as she finished with the shower extension and, damn it, saw exactly what she was afraid of.

     His dick was stiff as a dog bone. 

     "You just gasped," Brock said, his eyes still closed. "You looked at my stinger."

     "Sorry." 

     "No, I'm sorry." He didn't sound sorry, though.                                                          Still, this is Estelle, Brock scolded himself. Show a little respect. He sucked on the straw that led to his mimosa and tried to think about anything but his dick, but, hell, they were getting drunk, and they'd just completed a very traumatic mission, and adrenaline still pumped through his veins, and Domitika had stripped them down to their most vulnerable selves. It wasn't that he'd never thought about having sex with Estelle, there were no women in Brock's life outside of his mother and two sisters that he hadn't conjured up a sexual fantasy about at one time or another, but, before, it had always, in reality, seemed so inappropriate. It was like, as much as Estelle loved Brock, she just wouldn't stand for it.

      But that was before...

​      Now...

     "How far along are you on that count?" Estelle asked, and her voice came out a little breathless.

     "How far along do you want me to be?"

     He opened his eyes. He smiled. 

     "You can touch it if you want," he said. 

     Estelle sighed. Why fight it? "Let me soap my fingers, first."

     "They're just fine."

     "Anthony won't let me touch him at all." 

     "Okay, you've got to stop. This is all going..."

     "But I'm curious. I don't get to see a man's penis that often, like a real one right here in front of me like this."

     "You see mine all the time. Noel's..."

     "Not like this. I got to tell you, though, there were a couple of times, when Noel and I were alone in the tub, and I'd take a look. They're so damned odd. They're not like any other part of the human body. And he knew I was looking at him, too."

     "Noel always knows."

     "He never said anything, though." 

     "I am begging you to stop." 

      They both panted by this time.

     "We done in here?" Estelle asked. 

     "I am." 

     "Let's get back to the tub and the champagne."

                                                   CONTINUE