“I need to turn in, honey...” Mike stood up, stretched, and I heard his spine crack and pop as he arched his back.

I shuddered. I hate that noise.

He turned to Steve, “You’ll be okay in the spare room, mate. Em will give you some blankets.”

Steve nodded and raised his beer can, “Sure, bud, no worries. I’ll be all set.”

“Sorry I’m such a lightweight, what with this new job and the early starts, it’s killing me!” Mike grinned apologetically, shrugging as he picked up his cellphone. He looked at me, smiling... “You coming up soon, sweet cheeks?”

“Yeah, after I’ve taken my bath, it’s nearly ready,” I inclined my head towards the bathroom. “I might read a little as I soak, but I won’t be too long.”

“Guys?” Steve had an almost sad, sheepish look on his face. “You know, I really appreciate this. I’m so sorry to impose on you both. It’ll only be for a few nights, I promise.”

Mike turned to his friend, patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, “It’s okay, breakups are tough, man. Least we can do is offer you a roof over your head. Stay as long as you like. Our home is your home, you know?”

I echoed, smiling sweetly, “Yes, take as long as you need, Steve, no pressure. Just make yourself at home.”

Steve looked down, embarrassed and obviously more than a little uncomfortable at having had to ask us for help in the first place. “Thanks, you two are such good friends to me.”

He looked up at us and there were tears in his eyes. Mike could see where this was going, that Steve was getting maudlin and upset again. Whether it was the beer or just the rawness of his breakup, he knew that Steve wanted to talk, vent his spleen and he also knew it wouldn’t be a quick conversation. He looked at me, raised an eyebrow and I nodded. I was my turn to ‘take one for the team’. I didn’t mind though, Steve was a long-time friend of us both. Hell, he and I had even fooled around a little, long before Mike and I had gotten together. It was good too, and then I went abroad for eighteen months and we lost touch, but the spark had always been there, just below the surface.

“Go to bed, Mike. You need your sleep,” I smiled and blew him a kiss. “I got this one.”

Relieved, Mike yawned, waved goodnight, patted his friend's shoulder once again and retired. He gave me a grateful wink as he left.

“Can I get you another beer, Steve?” I offered.

He looked up gratefully, drained his can and held out the empty. “Thanks, Em, that’d be just great. And listen... Thanks... Just thanks, yeah?” He grabbed my hand, gave it a squeeze and his voice caught in his throat as he opened his mouth to say something else. The words never came and instead he just gave a wan smile.

“I won’t be too long,” I smiled, rubbing his slumped back. “Gonna check how my bath is doing. I'll back in a minute.”

I hurried upstairs and went into the bathroom, pushing the door closed behind me. The water was perfect, a little cold water and I could slide right in. I turned off the hot tap, gave the bubbles a swirl and lit a couple of candles around the tiled room. I much preferred it to be dimly lit than to have the ceiling light glaring, plus there was just something atmospheric, romantic even, about reading by candlelight, especially when it was Austen, yet again.

I went quietly towards our bedroom, to get my dressing gown, but then I decided I didn’t want to wake Mike, he’d probably be just about sleeping by now. I sighed, wishing that this new job of his wasn’t so tiring. All he seemed to want to do these days was sleep. I was trying to be supportive, but I was feeling a little neglected and quite horny, and, with Steve here, bedroom antics seemed less likely for the immediate foreseeable future. I pouted and sulked, feeling pleasantly selfish.

I went to the airing cupboard and picked up a large, clean, white, fluffy towel. I picked up a couple of guest towels too, for Steve, and took them into the spare room. The window was still open and I closed it, turning up the thermostat on the radiator to take the chill from the guest room. I switched on the bedside lamp. I felt sorry for our friend, he was taking his breakup from Lori really badly. As I turned back the covers on his bed, I hoped that we’d all still be able to be friends but I wasn’t sure that it would be possible. He was pretty raw, for now at least, even the mention of her name caused him to well up.

I went back downstairs, via the kitchen, topping up to my wine and fetching a beer for Steve.

He was sitting with his head in his hands and his shoulders were shaking slightly. I sat beside him, put my arm around him and he leaned against my chest, obviously making a big effort to hide his tears.

“Sshh, it’ll be okay, sweetie,” I cooed, stroking his hair and he sniffed and took a deep breath.

“It hurts, Em. It really fucking hurts,” he sobbed and turned his tear-stained face up to me.

I felt so badly for him and wished there was something more that I could do to help, but I knew as well as he did that he would have to face and deal with his demons alone.

I took his tear stained face between my palms and looked into his eyes. “Steve, it will get better, I swear it will. I know it’s hard right now, but you just need to give it some time, maybe go on a couple dates? I dunno.”

“Yeah, dates...” he sighed and took me by complete surprise as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

I tried to pull my head back and break the unexpected kiss, but his hands were behind my head, pulling my mouth onto his and his tongue poked between my lips, probing into my mouth.

“Mmmph,” I gasped and as my mouth opened, his tongue moved along my teeth and his arms slid down my back.

He paused, moved his head back, his hand in my hair, “Em, I’ve always fancied you, you know that, right?”

I was dumbstruck.

 I mean, Steve was a great guy, handsome and all, but I didn’t think of him in that way now, well, I tried not to, and anyway I was with Mike now. And yet, it seemed like it had been so long since Mike and I had made love, what with his new job and everything... I became aware of a heat between my legs and I ached to be touched.

“St-Steve, I can’t do this,” I took hold of his arms and pulled them down to his lap, trying not to notice what looked like a semi. “We’re friends and I’m truly sorry that you’re hurting right now, but this isn’t a good idea. I’m with Mike. You understand?”

He looked embarrassed, face flushed and he turned away, muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing Em, I just don’t fucking know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay, Steve, forget it,” I huffed as I got up. “Look, I’m going to take my bath and go to bed. You can stay up and watch TV, or whatever. There's beer in the fridge. The spare room is ready, just go up when you’re done here.”

“I’m sorry, Em, really,” he was flustered, “it’s just, Mike and I were talking earlier, about you and Lori... what happened, you know?”

“What about me and Lori?” I spun around defensively to face him, knowing I was blushing.

 Mike had promised that he’d never mention her and how she and I had gotten drunk one night and fooled around together and how he had walked in on us, caught us in the act, really... He had stood in the doorway, stroking his cock, watching as she and I had kissed, tasted and explored one another. Then when we had finally noticed him, he had ordered us to get onto our knees. We had shared his cock between us, kissing, sucking and licking, until he came and then we had all kissed, sharing wet, cummy kisses. Once he was hard again, he took us both, bent over the bed, alternating between our two wet pussies... I sighed at the memory.

Steve’s voice interrupted my reminiscing, “Look, Em, Mike gave me the impression that he wouldn’t mind if you and I...”

I glared at him, shook my head. “Steve, I am so not doing this right now. You’re a little drunk and I have a bath ready. I'll see you in the morning.”

I stormed out of the room, angry with Mike, angry with Steve and most of all, angry with myself for not spotting the signs, the way Steve had been looking at me all night in between his silences and morbid maudlin monologues.

Breathing heavily, I slammed the bathroom door closed. With my back to the doorway, I stood, facing the foot of the tub, as I reached out and turned on the cold tap. While the water ran, I undressed quickly, carelessly aiming my clothes at the hamper, then taking off my necklace and earrings.

Beginning to calm down, I swirled my fingers through the thick bubbles until they met the hot water underneath. Perfect! I thought as I gingerly stepped in.

Pleasured little ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ escaped my lips as I immersed myself in the rather too warm water until my body began to become accustomed to the heat. I sat still for a moment, observing the way my long, shapely legs began to turn a deep shade of pink.

I raised one from the fragrant suds, pointing it straight forward, towards the door. The coolness felt pleasant against my skin as I watched the bubbly rivulets run down my calf as they reached my thigh, rejoining the hot perfumed liquid in the bathtub.

I lowered my leg back into the water, bent my knees and slid languidly under the surface. I was already feeling more relaxed as I lay there, listening to the muffled, familiar sounds of the house, so quiet and alien from within the bubbly depths. I thought about what had just happened with Steve and realised that I felt conflicted. On the one hand, I knew that he was hurting, maybe feeling a little desperate because of his current situation. On the other, he and I did have that history, albeit ancient, and I noticed that I had that familiar, growing ‘sex itch’ in my core which was hard to ignore as its demand to be addressed increased.

I broke the surface of the water, my hair smooth against my scalp as I sucked in a deep breath. My breasts bounced in a most pleasing way and I noticed that my nipples were stiff, frothy, bubble-coated points. I wrung out the face cloth, wiped my face and then placed it over my eyes, I heard the stairs creak.

I froze, in a moment of panic and looked up to see if the bathroom door was locked. It wasn’t of course. In my hurry, I had slammed it closed and it had simply fallen ajar. I’d been too preoccupied to notice. I felt frantic, had to decide what to do and quickly. If I were to jump out of the bath now and make a dash to close the door, chances were I would reach it, naked and dripping wet, at exactly the same moment as him, Steve, en route to the his room.

Shit! What to do?

Resigned, I sighed and placed the face cloth over my eyes again, hoping that he would simply walk past, be a gentleman. He was after all a guest in our home.

Holding my breath, I heard his steps move along the hallway and waited for them to pass. They didn’t. I heard him stop and I knew that he was at the door, watching, and as he took the sight of me in, I heard him inhale deeply. I heard him gasp as his breath caught in his throat.

My face, already flushed from the heat, reddened further. I could feel it. I tried to put myself in his position, imagining what he could see; me lying, feet towards him, legs parted, nipples pointed to the ceiling, skin wet and shining in the dappling candlelight.

I’m not exactly proud to say that my pussy gave a bit of a pulse. It was turning me on to know that he could see me this way, naked,wet and exposed.

He didn’t say anything, but simply stood there. In the relative silence I could hear his breathing, not faster from ascending the stairs, but from the sight of me before him.

My mind was racing, for this was a very odd situation to find myself in. After the way I had stormed off, full of bravado and emotion, here I was now, naked and completely vulnerable. I felt like it gave him the upper hand in some way. I pretended that I didn’t know he was there, torn between not wanting to embarrass him, by catching him looking, and embarrassed at myself, from not closing the door after our interaction downstairs, and that niggling thrill of him seeing me. The reality of the situation was that, protected only by a face cloth, I didn't have to acknowledge that he was there, and he could, I don’t know, pretend I didn't hear him?

I decided to give him a show, maybe he would feel as uncomfortable as I did?

I reached for the sponge, blindly, cloth still over my eyes and I groped until I felt the rough texture under my fingers and the soap resting on top of it. Blindly, I dipped them into the water and then rubbed them together, feeling the lather build and then I set the soap back on the edge of the bath, grimacing slightly as it slid and plopped into the water.

I squeezed the sponge over my full pink breasts, feeling the thick bubbles coat them, smiling as I began to rub over pointed nipples. I heard him gasp ever so softly as I rested the sponge on my belly and used both hands to rub each wet globe, fingers pulling and tweaking the dark pink buds, breasts bouncing as I released them. I wasn’t making much noise, quiet splashes as I washed and I heard a familiar noise, the unmistakable sound of a zipper being slowly unfastened.

My excitement pulsed from my very core. Here I was, washing myself in the most provocative way, still pretending not to know that he was there. I wondered what his thoughts were? Did he really think I was unaware of him? Did he even care? I thought about what he could see. My knees above the surface, open, leaning against the sides of the tub, foaming bubbles obscuring what lay between.

Stunned by my own boldness and shocked by how being watched was making me feel, I felt for the long-handled body brush. I dipped my hand under the water and felt around until I found the soap. I lifted it and rubbed it over the firm bristles, building up a lather. I extended one leg out of the foamy bath, raising it high, my toes pointing to the ceiling. My eyes were still covered as I rubbed the soapy bristles along my leg. I held it higher, so that my voyeur could admire my shape and I smiled when I heard him exhale, almost imperceptibly.

I relaxed my leg and let my foot sink into the bath again. Raising the other long limb, I soaped and scrubbed, sighing as I moved the rough bristles along my inner thigh.

I felt appreciation for my watcher, for not tipping his hand, remaining silent, in some sort of unspoken agreement, I'll show, you watch . His movements although quiet, became rhythmic, yet steady, purposeful and slow... For now at least.

I smoothed my hands over my leg and then dropped it back beneath the water.

Whatever now?

I knew that he was transfixed by what I was doing and I could hear the brush of cloth as he continued stroking his cock. Perhaps he was imagining how it would be to cross those few feet, to come to me?

 I imagined his hands on my breasts, slipping down to my thighs until his fingers eventually touched my...

 The thought of it spurred me on and I let out a quiet moan as I pushed my feet against the bottom of the bath, raising my hips until my soft pussy curls broke the surface, for him to see. I took the foamy sponge from my belly and began to massage my mound, allowing soft, needy ‘hmms’ to escape my lips, listening for his breathing, which I could hear was clearly more ragged and panting now.

I set down the sponge and began to stroke my soft wet lips with slick, slippery fingers. His movements were unmistakable now, but I pretended not to hear, to be unaware of his presence.

I was enjoying a feeling of power that his fascination was giving me and I boldly slid two fingers between my pussy lips, opening them, eased not just by water, but by my viscous arousal. I gasped as he stifled a moan and feigned deafness. I could sense him slowing down a little, quietly. He was close, but not yet ready to come.

As I explored my needy pussy, I pushed two fingers between the slick folds, finding my entrance and plunging deep, the heel of my hand against the base of my clit, the pressure just right.

A barely whispered ‘oh fuck’ and I heard him begin to speed up again, stroking and jerking his cock. I could see it clearly in my mind’s eye and I rubbed faster, finger fucking my cunt, for him. For him to see.

His movements matched mine in an aching, near-silent symphony of arousal, wanting, fucking.

I was close.

My free hand took hold of a shaking nipple, pinching and tugging it as my movements shook my whole body.

His breathing was fast now as he panted and pulled upon his cock.

And then I felt my climaxing cunt clench tightly around my thrusting fingers. My soft cries and moans drowned out his grunts as he too came, and I imagined the thick sticky fluid splashing and coating his hand and wrist.

We were both gasping for breath as I slowed and then finally stopped, muscles still tightening and slackening on my slippery wanton fingers.

I relaxed, coming down, alighting, hips beneath the water, the view of my glistening pussy obscured once more by the scented bubbles and I heard the rub of cloth against skin as he wiped away his semen and then the snippy tug of a fastened zip.

I took a deep breath and slipped my head beneath the water.

I heard a muffled click as the door closed and when I broke the surface a moment later, I opened my eyes.

He was gone.

I lay there for awhile, unable to quite believe what I had just done, what we had just done. My heart seemed overly loud as it beat a tattoo of shame in my heaving chest. Surely the noise would rouse Mike?

Mike! My mind whirled in fear and excitement, recalling for the second time this night when he had caught Lori and I. Would it have been like that? I thought not. Perhaps he would have flown into a rage? Perhaps he would have joined us?

Fantasies began to battle with the guilt and shock at my boldness, the thrill of being complicit in a mutual taboo act of sexual expression.

I sighed as I stepped out of the bath and readied myself for bed. I slipped in beside a sleeping Mike and I felt the guilt and shame grow bigger in my belly.

As I lay there, trying to fall asleep, I wondered how long Steve would be staying with us and I felt my pussy tingle, imagining what it might feel like to feel him inside me...