The water still running, Mitchell stared at the bathroom door.
Coming off the bed yet again, turning all the lights off with the exception of the lamp atop the television, returning to the bed, the water still running, Mitchell stared at the bathroom door.
Lying nude on top of the blanket, he began to feel a bit obvious, so, standing, lifting his side of the blanket, laying down again, covering himself to the waist, he looked at the bathroom door…
Silence.
Mitchell watched the door…
Ten minutes…
Fifteen minutes…
Twenty-five minutes…
The knob turned.
The door opened.
“Oh…” Afraid any sound or movement would dissipate the dream before him, for…
Marsha was the living embodiment of a thousand longing daydreams.
Marsha was the hand-held, lingering remembrance of a thousand empty, passionate nights.
Mitchell felt a tightening in his throat, a binding within his chest, and a stinging in his eyes, and he was sure Marsha could hear the thumping of his heart, because…
A study of youth and beauty…
Illumination coming from the open bathroom door framed and back-lit, while the muted light from the one burning lamp, glowing through its parchment-like shade, cast Marsha in a buttery-yellow blush.
Marsha’s long, black hair was brushed straight back, revealing her sharp widow’s peak. Draped over both shoulders, thick strands of luxurious hair lay upon the upward swell of her breasts.
Cinched at the waist, the long, diaphanous gown opened into an inverted V from below the shadow of her pubic hair and widened as it fell along her long, slender legs, ending at her bare feet. The upright V of the gown widened from the waist up, leaving Marsha’s chest bare, but covered her breasts with a transparent, white sheen. Easily visible, her breasts laying slightly to the sides of her chest, the dark-pink areola of Marsha’s nipples had a soft, white cast, and….
Not sure how to proceed, Marsha stood perfectly still, as…
In this protracted moment, in this flickering point in time, the absolute beauty of his nineteen-year old bride became indelibly etched onto the mind of Mitchell Lipensky.
