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She wandered into the bathroom, humming an idle tune, stripped matter-of-factly and turned on the water to get it warmed up. She liked her showers hot, and one downside of this townhouse was that the water heater always seemed to take its own sweet time getting going.

She scratched her butt, sighed, and looked at herself in the mirror. She was starting to show a few signs of age, she noticed disconsolately. Not that she'd ever thought of herself as overwhelmingly attractive—she wasn't ugly or anything, but she considered herself plain. Now, she was plain—and getting a bit beyond her prime.

She smiled awkwardly at her reflection. She wasn't even thirty yet! She shook her head a little at the tapes playing in her head, the legacy of a thousand little imperfections thather mother had perceived in her from day one, and had told her about from day two. She rolled her eyes, and reminded herself that Dan had never complained.

Thus calming her inner pettifogger, she stepped into the now steaming shower, leaned her head against the back wall, and let the water roll down her back, sighing contentedlyas the heat relaxed the muscles in her back, and the kinks in her spirit.

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Will was dazzled and dazed, and somewhat amazed to be alive.

He had lit off half-cocked, and in retrospect, he was fortunate that he hadn't found his way into the shower with the (naked! beautiful!) Jill. From the sound of the torrential downpour behind the mammoth curtain, he'd be washed away by now.

He had made a fateful decision on the table minutes before. He knew that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Jill naked. He had to figure out how, though. After all,she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt; he saw the bare skin of her left arm, her fine hairs magnified by her enormity, and he wondered if she would feel him if he hung onto them—but stealth would not be a friend to him there. And he couldn't let her find him. Not yet.

Then he saw it. The passageway.

It was bigger than him, but he could hide under it. Oh, it wasn't a good place for long, but it would do for the moment.

Still, as he approached it, his stomach did flip-flops. Not from the immensity of her left hand, laying, half-curled, gracefully on the table.

No, it was what leaned against the table, its owner paying it no attention.

It was a diamond. One attached to one of two rings on the third finger of her hand.

He found his way underneath it, his back against the cold gold, his vision the dazzling sparkle of what appeared to be a trillion-carat diamond. And his world in constant motion as Jill shifted her hand slightly this way and that.

She finally rose, and his world was too kinetic for him to process. He had a look up her long arm, which swayed slightly with each step. Suddenly, the hand gripped the banister, and then was free again.

And then the hand was reaching for the hem of the shirt, and then it was pulling. The motion was too much—he fell off into a sea of robin's egg blue, which was tossed unceremoniously onto the floor.

He pulled himself skyward quickly, toward a shaft of light. He emerged and stared up at Jill as she slid her pink panties off….

He gasped. He had imagined her naked, of course—more times than he could possibly admit. But of course, he'd never imagined her like this.

She stretched up magnificently, a goddess-like statue of perfect goodness. She was so far above him, he knew; it fit her.

She turned for the shower, and his heart swelled. He watched up the infinity of leg to the perfection of her derriere, and sighed as it moved away from him and out of his view.

He contemplated his mortality for a moment, before he started to wonder how he was going to get back onto her—this time, hopefully in a more secure location.

He was still wondering when she stepped out of the shower a few minutes later.

He watched her go through a typical post-shower routine—she tied the towel around herout of habit, blocking her lovely form from his view but paradoxically giving him a view up the towel that was more alluring than ever. She blew her hair dry, far above him, and he began to despair. He had just decided to try to climb onto her right foot (which sat nearby, like a gentle bluff) when fate conspired to place him higher on her form.

She had grabbed it from the counter carelessly; it was perhaps no surprise when it dropped from her fingers, falling toward him precipitously. But he wasn't afraid as it impacted a few dozen feet from him. He was just hoping to reach it before she picked itup.

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She slipped the band onto her right wrist, and with the practice of a lifetime of repetition, she gripped her hair in one hand and slid the band on with the other, feeling the pony tail flop down agreeably.

She nodded at the mirror, then hanging up the towel, she returned to her room. Bra, new panties, jean shorts and a modest college T-shirt, socks and keds—she wasn't dressed up by any stretch of the imagination, but she was comfortable. And that was all she cared about today.

The doorbell rang, and she bounded down the stairs. Today wouldn't be a day of much accomplishment, but she didn't give a damn. She just wanted to have fun.

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He bounced right along with her.

He had reached the scrunchie; he now regretted it somewhat. He had ended up embedded in her hair, with just enough light coming in to tell him that there was a world outside. He breathed in the aroma of her shampoo, but he was disappointed. He wouldhave to get out of here.

But of course, Will was quickly realizing that as much as we're unaware of it, the human head is in almost constant motion. As Jill dressed (or so he surmised; he assumed that was what the bending and dropping motions were), her head turned and twisted and shook and bobbled until he was feeling motion-sick.

When he heard the doorbell, he began to dread what was to come. He had wanted a day with her, but not like this.

But that was the day he would have. At least for the next few hours.