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One of the rooms in the House in my head is a bathroom - not the only bathroom, but one that I've spent a lot of time going over the details of, one I could describe in my sleep, one I know by heart.
This room is in a corner of the House, with huge windows on two sides of it. It's rectangular, not square, with the room's main door on one of the narrow ends. The door is set back a bit, a tiny hallway of only a couple feet allowing the door to be completely opened without disturbing the beaded drape that hangs in the other end of the tiny hall, ensuring that there's a moment's notice between someone opening the door and actually entering the bathroom proper. There are two other doors, set along the wall to the left of the main entrance - the wall opposite it and the wall to the right are mostly window, with a slender porch and delicate sculpted iron railing curving around to make it easy for the windows to be cleaned from outside without actually obstructing the view or providing room for anyone to lurk. One of the two doors leads to a smaller chamber, with a toilet, sink, and a couple of shallow cabinets holding a few books and extra toilet paper and soap. The other door leads to a large walk-in closet containing plenty of oversized bath towels, the thick fluffy kinds, in a wide range of jeweltone colors. A few are decorated with embroidery along the edges but most are plain, their vibrant hues decoration enough. This closet also holds an impressive collection of bath salts, bubble bath liquids, shampoos and conditioners, soaps ranging from stuff strong enough to take off machine grease without any effort to delicate flower-petal and glycerine fluff that is intended to scent and soothe rather than scrub. There are brushes and combs, washcloths and sponges, pumice stones, and in one section of the closet, a carefully-hung selection of rubber, latex, and waterproofed leather bondage gear and toys.
Back in the main room, there are several key features. The first is a cabinet inset into the wall near the door; it contains a state-of-the-art stereo system and a fairly large collection of music, mostly celtic stuff, gregorian chants, classical music, lots of soothing, quiet songs to be used as background music rather than as distraction. The system connects to speakers tucked up in the corners of the room near the ceiling and painted to blend in with the hues of the room.
The next thing that catches the eye is the window seat taking up half the long-windowed wall, the cushions covered in extra-soft terrycloth and absorbent linen, the space beneath it one long bookshelf with glass doors ensuring the books are kept safe from accidental splashing. The mini-library here can be grouped into three categories: humor books, including Dave Barry, some Calvin and Hobbes collections, Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams, and a hardbound copy of JTHM; reference books, mostly on herbal remedies, aromatherapy, massage treatments, but also a few books on aztec and inca ruins and various flora and fauna of South America; and a handful of somewhat-tattered paperbacks, mostly science-fiction and fantasy but with a couple of historical romance novels thrown in, that have clearly been read and re-read quite a few times.
The third feature is also against the entry wall, on the other side of the door from the stereo, and also inset. A cunningly-fashioned ventilation system ensures that smoke and steam can be whisked away from the large brazier surrounded by well-insulated stonework. It is heated from beneath by an electric element similar to that on a cookstove, though the copper bowl is removable and shows traces of ash, making it clear that small fires, perhaps of herbs and sweet-scented wood, have been lit there on occasion. At the moment, the contents of the copper bowl are several large, smooth river rocks, over which someone has recently splashed a bit of water, steam still rising from them, and a few scraps of oil-soaked orange peel soaking in a shallow layer of water in the bottom of the bowl, the citrus scent filling the room.
Last but not least, the bath itself. The far end of the room (the narrow, windowed end) is entirely taken up by a raised platform that stretches from one side to the other, and curves down along the long windowed side, stopping a few feet short of the window seat. There are stairs leading up to the platform; platform, stairs, and the floor for several feet away from the platform are all tiled with spiraling patterns of pastel green, rich bronze, and delicate lavender against ivory tiles and grout for background, forming the stylized image of flowering branches and vines. This pattern is continued up the walls, first in tile and then in paint, with a few of the vines and branches actually continued out onto the windows, color overlaying slightly-frosted glass.
The tub itself is deep enough that when full, someone sitting in the deeper half would be up to their shoulders in warm water. This deep portion is the bit near the windowseat, designed for easy immersion of the whole body, with room just in that area for two people to sit comfortably. The larger portion of the bath, the part against the end wall, could seat four without trying; it is shallower, with slightly-sculpted curves and inflated cushions placed at careful intervals to make it possible for one or two people to lay full-length in perfect comfort. There is a slight lip to the tub, the edges rounded but the top flat and ever-so-slightly inset, large enough to rest a cup or bar of soap on.
There are a total of three faucets, one at each end of the tub and one in the corner where the two windowed walls meet. The faucet in the corner is accompanied by a showerhead set fairly high up along the corner; it is removable, and there are two translucent curtains that can be drawn to turn that area into a private shower, ensuring that none of the spray will go past the edges of the tub. One of these curtains is movable as well, a pair of switches on the wall used to guide it between several positions, allowing the deeper portion of the tub to be curtained instead of the corner, if desired.
One other interesting detail that should be noted is that inset into the tile around the tub at various points, into the wood of the window seat, into a couple points in the walk-in closet, and in the doorframe the beaded curtain hangs in, one on each side of the doorway, are very sturdy iron rings. Each one has an equally-sturdy metal spring clasp dangling from it, ensuring easy attachment to a leash, a collar, or any other such gear. These rings are kept polished and oiled, their maintainance part of the daily cleaning of this room.
I really want a bath right now; one in this room, specifically. I want to sprawl in the warm water, feeling hands gently scrubbing me clean, leaning back against a warm body, soft breasts, tilting my head to nuzzle at a ribbon-bound throat. I want to watch my cat splashing in the water, want to see her smiling lazily in the steam, want to slide my fingers between her legs, pull her over until she's straddling my hips, make her moan and buck and twist while I just lay back and drink in the sight of her. I want to wash her hair, to run my fingers through the strands, to clench my hands and pull her back against me, savoring her gasp of arousal at the sudden sensation.
*sigh* Yeah. Missing Torian.
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