Saturday, March 07, 2009

Bath Time

A man once said to me "I don't get the whole bath thing."

I understand that much of what we women do is a mystery to you fellows, so I'm going to betray the sisterhood and let you in on what goes on when we take a bath.

We arrive in the bath chamber already very pretty and smelling of rainbows and sunshine. In truth, we are never dirty. Well, never very dirty. We look very cute and, of course, we are just totally hawt. We probably will take a moment to stand and pose demurely atop the tanned hide of some unfortunate former beast, probably a bear or a leopard you killed for us- you sweet, sweet man! Taking a moment to pose and consider our own hotness is an important part of the process. We need time to think. Plus we like the idea that if you could see us (and you can't), it would drive you bug-nuts. Tra-La!

We are attended by one or two other women of lower social station than ourselves, always dressed as harem maids. They are cute, but not as cute as we are. They draw a bath of the desired temperature and resplendent with oodles of bubbles and more wonderful-smelling essences of flowers, herbs and various processed bits of dead critter. Hmmmm. Nothing says bathtime like herb-infused musky flowers. ROWR!

We pose again at the edge of our bathing pool, deciding which comely shoulder to slip from the dressing gown first, playing peek-a-boo while the maids feign enthusiasm as they wait to take our fine garments away. [When we bathe, our servants probably play with our wardrobe and other fineries. We must think of appropriate punishments for such presumptuousness. Bitches.] Were you fortunate enough to get a gander into our private little bath chamber, you still would miss the creamy flash of our beautiful naked body as we slip into the water behind diaphanous layers of gossamer silks. Silly stag. Think of it as a reverse performance of Venus rising from the foam. We're just like that. Every time.

We recline into the warm, caressing waters only to suddenly feel very lively, rather frisky, even. Yes, we sit and play with bubbles for hours, giggling at their wondrous symmetry and fragility. Plus, they tickle, and if we could really think it through, we'd realize what's in the bubbles so delights and appeals to us because it's so very like that great raft of pretty nothing knocking about between our ears, but why worry about such things?

In the end, all that really matters is how glorious the bath feels and smells and Damn! We're cute! Did I mention how cute we are?

We are Bettie Page.

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Friday morning, I opened my door to find a box of goodies from Lush on my garden gnome doormat, a luscious little barge of bath bombs. THRILLS! Friday evening found me luxuriating in jasmine-and-mimosa infused waters courtesy of a Sakura bath bomb. Deftly hoisting my novel above the fragrant churning waters, Harry Dresden is, it would appear, in another pickle and made for fast reading as I took lazy draughts of my champagne. After an hour or so, I had to add fresh hot water and gave in to my not-so-inner libertine by cracking into the Bon Bomb, which swathed my glorious naked body in luscious shea butter and more floral essences. Decadent in the most tasteful sort of way. Finally: the proper bath I've been craving.

I smell all nice and flowery. ...and damn! I'm cute. Srsly. I smell like a garden of earthly delights.



And am, in fact, a garden of earthly delights.

19 comments:

Peter said...

. . . and as you recline in seductive luxury beneath your carpet of concealing bubbles, your man bursts out of the linen basket where he's hidden in wait, and moves towards you . . .

Then he trips over the bath mat, and spills his Coke (complete with lots and lots and lots of ice cubes) all over your bosom, and you shriek as the icy chill drives all thought of the bubbles from your mind, and you scream "Philistine! A Philistine is among us!" . . .

And your dogs burst in, barking at such an heretical imposition on your bathtime, and jump in with you to comfort you, scratching you with their claws . . .

And your man beats a hasty retreat as you lob the loofah at his disappearing back, uttering such unladylike words as to cause his ears to burn for days afterwards . . .

And somewhere up above, the angels are laughing fit to burst a gut!

:-)

Barbara Bruederlin said...

I am obviously a poor excuse for a woman. I don't get the whole bath thing either.

Anonymous said...

need a shower after reading that

ben

Buck said...

You are SUCH a tease, Phlegmmy! (I kinda like that in a woman, actually.)

But thanks for the Bettie-bits. Wondrous.

Brigid said...

I have two giant bathtubs at the Range and my harem maid quit.

If you spot a spare cabana boy that looks like Sean Connery, send him my way.

Anonymous said...

I'll be in my bunk....
p.s. Somebody tell Brigid that I have hairy chest just like Mr. Connery!

phlegmfatale said...

Peter - Hm, I was unaware there were Philistines in my acquaintance. Clearly I've been hanging out with the wrong sort of folk. You've blown me out of the water with your comment. I think I need a bath to recover. The pups will have to stay downstairs, I think...

Barbara - no? Love ya anyway, honey. I enjoy them enough for the both of us, anyhow.

ben - thank you, drive through!


buck - who? moi? tease??? tsk.
Bettie is so fab. Love her.

Brigid - I'll keep my eyes peeled!

Anonymous - heh.

Christina LMT said...

You made me laugh so hard, I almost spit my dinner all over my new lap-top (that would NOT have been nice!)

I LOVE bathtime. It's been far too long since I've indulged...thanks for the idea, though my harem slaves have been on an extended leave of absence...must recall them!

Hey, there is NO WATER in that tub with Bettie. That's cheating.

Old NFO said...

What I've never been able to figure out is why y'all don't come out wrinkled like a prune... :-)

rickn8or said...

Bettie Page.

Now THERE's a woman who knew how to take a bath!

phlegmfatale said...

Christina - Glad you got a giggle - I laughed as I composed this and hoped you would, too. Yes, get thee to the bathtub! Re: no water- willing suspension of disbelief, darlin'!

Old NFO - All our bumped-out curves leave no room for wrinklage, I think. Plus using good bath products helps, I think. ;)


ricn8or - She's great, isn't she?

Old NFO said...

Oh okay :-)

J.R.Shirley said...

God bless Bettie Page. At least the young, less-crazy and murderious, BP.

Roberta X said...

I am Bettie Page, you know...er, the nice one John mentioned, that is.

(It is an unfathomable tragedy that the tub here at Roseholme is tiny. I rilly-rilly need a hot tub in the back yard. Also? One of the nice things about buying used books is I don't feel even a little bad about reading in the bathtub. It's horrible but true: a big cup of good coffee, a decent book and a large tub of steaming-hot water is my idea of a good time).

phlegmfatale said...

Old NFO - damn skippy!

JR Shirley - She was fab. :)

Bobbi - me too!!! Yes, you must have a tub forthwith. It's necessary. I'm with you on reading int he tub - nice not to feel too guilty when a book gets dunked.... :P That's only happened a couple times, though. :)

Robert said...

Forget the Alamo....you got Bettie Page taking a bath!

phlegmfatale said...

Robert - you've got standards! hee!

TOTWTYTR said...

Baths can be a lot of fun... as long as you're not alone. :)

Stephanie said...

Just found this blog and am thrilled to see that there's someone else that thinks a bath with a Sakura bathbomb (try a half of a Karma bubble bar mixed with half a Butterball-HEAVEN) and a Dresden book is the pinnacle of the bathing experience.

Loved the Bettie Page video as well!