Bath Time for the Dirty-Minded

Peter felt the weight of uncertainty drop in his stomach as he noticed an ominous lump beneath the sheets also inhabited by his wife, Emilia. He observed a glowing shade of vermilion on her cheeks; her, typically, tidy hair in complete disarray. Not wanting any of the staff to catch a glimpse of this strange scene, Peter entered the bedchamber, then shut the door behind him. As the door clicked shut, the mysterious mound moved next to Emilia suddenly. To his surprise, Peter had to stifle a chuckle as his wife's grey eyes widened.

"Please forgive my sudden appearance, dear wife, it was not my intention to frighten you. Is that...um, your...?" Peter nodded toward the lump, unsure how to continue.

"Yes, dear husband, but also...it's my chambermaid," Emilia confessed as she clenched her sheet under her chin.

Peter's jaw dropped a little as a tousle-headed maid revealed herself slowly from under the cover. Anne looked between Emilia and Peter then seemed to decide a nod of the head (instead of a curtsy) would suffice in deference to her employer.

"Not sure this was part of the job when you were hired, yet I appreciate the extra help you are giving to my wife," Peter assuaged.

"If I may, I'll just get dressed and leave you both-"

"No!" Peter and Emilia both shouted.

Peter was not sure what he wanted, yet he knew there was something exciting about having caught Emilia with her lover. Intrigue coursed through him, encouraged him to keep both women here at this moment.

"What I mean is there is no reason why you should remove yourself just yet. I could wait until you two are...done," Peter managed to sputter out.

"We have already...finished," Emilia offered.

Disappointment filled Peter; his imagination was only so good. The idea of both women together made his member twitch in arousal. Thoughts of how to keep them both here, naked, raced in his mind. He felt their eyes on him, which caused him to pace back and forth across the carpeted floor. From across the room, Peter caught sight of Emilia's lavender China basin, when a capital idea struck him.

"What if I draw you both a bath?" Peter burst out.

Both women looked at each other for the answer before either could respond to his suggestion.

"I do enjoy a bath afterwards," Emilia blushed to herself again.

"Sir, I could draw it if you like."

"Teach me how to do it. I want to watch you both wash each other," Peter gulped, afraid they would laugh at him.

"Anne!" Emilia shrieked as the maid began to leave the bed.

"What? Unlike you I don't have a bathrobe," Anne rationalized.

With his gaze cast downward, Peter noticed Anne's lightly calloused feet touch the floor, one after the other. His mouth watered as his gaze lingered on the maid's ankles while she walked round the front of the bed. Peter hadn't even noticed that Anne was completely disrobed until she walked right past him towards the adjoining bathroom. She looked back at Peter, tilted her head so he would follow. Such confidence reminded him of the fair Violet. When Peter looked back, he noticed Emilia had risen from her bed yet not as exposed as Anne. Emilia had gathered a sheet around her, like a Greek goddess might, silk fabric clenched at her still flushed bosom, while it draped, gracefully, down around her naked frame. As she pulled her long locks over one shoulder, Emilia looked to Peter, demurely, then grew rosier under his gaze.

"Are you quite sure you are all right with this, husband?" Emilia requested head still bend downward as though in prayer.

Struck speechless by his wife's submission to him him, Peter briskly closed the gap between them. Overcome by Emilia's vermilion sheen and exposed arms, Peter took her face between his hands to bestow a less than proper kiss upon those petal-like lips. A gasp met his ears, which made Peter's steed stiffen. He pressed his body into hers to feel every inch of Emilia's thinly veiled body. As he began to open her mouth with his, Emilia leaned away, suddenly. A throat cleared roughly behind them.

"Oh, I feel faint," Emilia began to go limp in Peter's slender arms.

Before Peter could make the slightest move, Anne was by Emilia's side to help hold her up. Emilia leaned into Anne's sturdy arms as the chambermaid moved between husband and wife. Peter averted his eyes, but inhaled sharply when Anne's round buttocks rubbed against his increased girth. Anne must have felt it too for she looked back at him, then down towards the culprit, and raised a cajoling eyebrow at him.

"If you would, sir, help me carry the missus in there. A warm, rose-scented bath should revive her fully," Anne smirked as Peter attempted to help carry the weakened woman.

"Please don't strain yourself, dear, I'm much better. I was merely taken aback by your fervor."

"I am so sorry, sweetest," Peter attempted to apologize with a kiss, but thought better of it.

"Gracious! One would think you two had never seen the other undressed," Anne chortled.

Peter stopped still along with Emilia, neither dared to look at the other. Embarrassment made Peter go limp as he felt the saucy maid's eyes fall on him.

"But you're both married!" Anne exclaimed.

"Yes, well, married people don't engage as those of a lower class might," Emilia supplied, "It's purely about making an heir."

"Exactly!" Peter agreed, though somewhat dismayed.

"But to have engaged yet not known what the other looks like seems, begging your pardon, false somehow. Like you two don't really know each other, in the Biblical sense anyway," Anne offered.

These thoughts left them all silent as they entered the bathroom. Emilia, still dressed in her Grecian garb, knelt over the claw foot tub to test the water with her hand. Anne busied herself doing, Peter could only guess, while he leaned against the sink to ponder what had just been revealed. All he wanted was to be gentle, a proper husband like his mother had deserved. Peter began to wonder if he had been too chaste; after all they were married. Amorous congress still caused him such anxiety, though, that the idea of revealing one's body too left him breathless.

Instead of drowning further in his fears, Peter looked up to see Anne braiding his wife's long, chestnut colored hair. They were turned away from him, towards a looking glass, and seemed to be in their own little world. Peter allowed himself to take in the chambermaid's ample backside; admired her hourglass figure. He longed to grope and squeeze some of that caramel-colored flesh, but restrained himself. The ladies would decide the rules for this sudden rendezvous. Peter didn't want to distract them with questions nor confuse them with a man's desires.

Anne had finished pulling back her mistress' hair when she turned Emilia around to Peter. His wife's grey eyes looked into his brown ones without breaking as she relinquished her grasp on the sheet. There was a soft swish as the sheet slid down Emilia bare body to her nimble, little feet. Peter felt his mouth open slightly as his eyes feasted on his wife's statuesque body, smooth like marble yet soft like a feather pillow. Her diddeys hung like ripe peaches that he longed to pluck, then suck the sweet juices from. He watched as she, gracefully with the help of Anne, got into the ivory, claw foot tub. At first, Emilia perched herself on the bathtub's edge to get used to the warmth. With her hands she trickled water over the tops of her slender thighs, then upwards along her glistening abdomen.

The room was getting so steamy that Peter had to remove his velvet robe. Emilia's hand glided up over her bosom, then up along her neck, when their eyes met again. She beckoned for him to come closer. Peter did as was summoned while Anne walked around the other side of the tub towards him. Once he was right in front of her, Emilia looked up at him and began to unbutton his nightshirt. Peter almost jumped when he felt another pair of hands, lightly, touch his shoulders, then reach into his shirt collar. Peter closed his eyes as those hands pulled the shirt over his shoulders, then down his arms.