Definitely like old times.
Babs heard him out in the living room, pulling that bed out from the settee. He intended that she would rest in front of the fire. It was too early to go to bed. Being in front of that fire where they could talk, would be better.
They could talk there in comfort, and she certainly had a lot to talk about, once she got her thoughts in order.
“Do you feel any warmer now?” She hadn’t heard him come back into the bathroom, but that was because he was in his stocking feet.
“Yes. Thank you.” She sounded grateful for what he'd done for her.
“Ready to get out?”
She wasn’t going to complain about a grown man seeing to her like this… in all of her naked glory.
He shut off the water and pulled the plug. There was no point in him waiting to find out if she had enough use of her arms and shoulders to stand up for herself. She didn’t.
He didn’t warn her, but leaned over and scooped her up into his arms, just as he’d done outside, earlier… she vaguely remembered some of it… and carried her into the living room. She was still dripping with water.
What sort of a vision would she present to anyone else in there? She didn’t want to think about it, being carried, naked, everything hanging out and exposed, and in the arms of a young man, but there was no one to see her… only him.
Her father had given everyone the day off and they were down the hill, in town.
There was a blazing fire. He’d just made that up, too.
She remembered something like this happening to her when she’d been just a little girl. Her mother, or her father, sometimes even one or other of her much older brothers (seven and ten years older) had helped her too. Standing her to get warm in front of the fire as they’d dried her body and hair, briskly; too briskly sometimes, ignoring her complaints and feeling overawed that they actually had a little sister to learn about what all boys were curious about. Her warm nightdress usually followed that, then a warm glass of milk. Then, bed.
The sofa bed was already pulled out with the covers turned back, and she could see towels and a change of clothing laid out for her; Pajamas.
She was taken back almost twenty years as he seemed to be following history and letting her relive those memories again, though they were not the same. She was much older now.
He didn’t handle her with kid gloves, but dropped a big towel over her shoulders and rubbed at her vigorously, working slowly down her legs as she stood in front of the fire, not avoiding touching her on her abdomen to hold her still, as needed, to get her dry and warm.
He wanted to kiss her on her cheeks... the lower ones... but held off from doing that.
He turned her and, holding her steady with his arm around her back, worked over her front too, just as though she was five years old again, but saying nothing about any differences, or what he felt and noticed about her. Except now, she had breasts, and she’d filled out.
She was just as he remembered her at the lake.
She had her eyes closed most of the time, but when she sensed that he was not looking into her face, but was focused upon everything else about her body, she opened them, watching him, watching what he was doing. She saw where his eager eyes were, on her as she moved, putting her legs farther apart to let him dry up between them, and to keep her balance.
He was obviously interested in everything he could see, watching her breasts moving around; hypnotized by them as he’d pushed and pulled her around. She’d seen that.
He hadn’t changed. His face was almost in that patch of hair on her body, looking intently at that too.
She moved her legs farther apart for balance, seeing his interest in that exact place, perk up too.
She almost laughed. He was so predictable.
“Put your hands on my shoulders, please.”
She didn’t ask why… she knew, could see what he needed to do, as he picked up her panties.
She raised her feet, opening herself even more, down there to his personal inspection as he threaded her panties over her feet and pulled them up on her body. He did it slowly (they were one of those pairs from years ago and they seemed small on her; very snug going over her hips. They even had the initials ‘SG’ embroidered on them.
She’d retired that pair, years before. He pulled them up, easing them over her hips then, putting a finger into the edge of them, he pulled them to cover her cheeks and to not get trapped in another awkward place, between her legs in front of her. He saw, and touched almost everything, then did the same for a pair of pajama bottoms and then the top, saying nothing more, but closely observing everything.
He buttoned the top, obviously reluctant to hide her breasts away. He hadn't changed.
She heard him sigh, pulling at the sides to provide enough room to get the buttons fastened without interfering directly with her breasts, as he clearly wanted to.
Only then, did he relax and look down into her face.
He wanted to kiss her, but he also knew better than to do so.
He picked her up again, sensing that she was still unsteady on her feet, and deposited her on top of the covers where she could sit back against the pillows and watch him as he tidied more things away.
“You heard that call from your father?”
“He’s safe too.”
She knew that now, so she could rest.
“Are you hungry?
She hadn’t thought about it, but did now.
She nodded again.
He tossed another log onto the fire. The vents in the old stone chimney would direct warm air from the stonework, into the upstairs bathrooms, and would stop the water pipes from freezing if it got a lot colder.
She’d stay quiet, and would ask the painful questions later. Was he married…? Why had she not heard from him? Endless questions.