He washed someone's hair, strands by strands, they were no longer long. It was his wife. He entered the emptied bathtub. It was intended, so that when the water splashed on her hair, they would flow straight down the porcelain bathtub and slowly disappear to the small drainage.
He sat there, bare-chested. Some droplets of water would splash down on his boxer and make it fully soaked.
On the other hand, the woman in front of him had closed her eyes. She was enjoying the comfort of his hand massage, and the splash of fresh cold water running through her hair.
The smell of the shampoo seemed too expensive to enjoy, and finally, today she could smell it.
"How about 'this' one? Can I wash it too?"
"Pervert!" Aruna grumbled, as the large hand scooping some soap bubbles squeezed 'hers'.
