Playing the Polo Player

I do, I really do, but I don’t have any clothes. I didn’t exactly think a trip to the Polo Club would result in me going to a secondary location. It’s starting to be clear to me that I shouldn’t have expectations when I go around Rupert.

“I would, but I don’t have any clothes,” I sigh.

He shrugs, “I can give you a shirt and some shorts for now. We’ll run your clothes in the wash so you can change before leaving.”

I want to decline, but my desire for a shower is higher. I want to get the smell of horses, hay, and that jackass off of me so I can relax. “Uhm, yeah… Sure. That could work. Thanks.”

He guides me further into the apartment and walks me into the bathroom. Of course, it’s large, marble, and has the most luxurious shower I’ve ever seen. The shower is a glass cube with the flooring and walls done in river stones. He demonstrates the shower controls, points out where the towels are, and tells me to wait before leaving the room momentarily. When he returns, he has a navy blue, silky pajama top and matching shorts. Even just looking at it from afar, I know that the bottoms are going to be rivalling the jeans in The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants if they fit. But I’ll panic about that silently and when alone.

“Thanks,” I say as I accept them and set them on the counter. As Rupert turns to leave, I realize something startling. I don’t want to be alone, it would mean thinking, and then overthinking, and then overthinking the overthinking, and needing to go home before my hair is even dry. I’d overthink the incident with Anders, the motivations behind it, Rupert’s help, and being here at the apartment. Which all go against what my gut is telling me, even if it isn’t entirely logical.

I trust Rupert, and I really want to be around him and enjoy that time.

“Wait,” I call after him just as he reaches the door. He pauses and peers back at me. I bite down on the side of my cheek, weigh my options for a moment, and then announce it without much more thought. “In the name of efficiency, would you want to shower together?”

His eyes study me and his silence is almost enough to make me want to crawl out of my skin; or at least laugh awkwardly and announce I am only kidding. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose,” he finally replies.

“How is it imposing if I’m the one who invited you in?” I question, my tone sassier than I have any right to be.

Ru smirks, and nods as he pivots back to me. “Then yeah. So long as you’re comfortable.”

In a swift movement, he pulls off his collared shirt and I don’t even bother to pretend not to gawk at him. He’s tan and so muscular that my mind can only compare him to the greatest cliché of all: a Roman God. It’s a bit intimidating and suddenly my mind is encouraging me to reconsider being so naked so soon around him.

He’s nearing me and I can feel my heart leap into my throat from both excitement and nerves. However, he reaches around me and picks up a little remote from a basket on the counter. Pressing a button, music wafts through the room from I’m guessing a well hidden surround sound system. It’s classical music with chorus vocalizations that remind me of angels or something.

“I usually listen to music in the shower, do you mind?”

“No it’s just…it suits you,” I murmur. “The music, I mean.”

Rupert starts unfastening his belt as he paces across the bathroom and cuts the shower on. Steamy water immediately starts to fill the glass space. When he turns back to me, I am completely ogling. My body attempts to play it cool by starting to undress myself, but I know that my face is giving everything away.

Lifting my gaze to his face, I witness him ogling at me in the same way. It’s hard for me to grasp the fact someone like him has the same level of attraction that I do, but there’s something about the way he looks at me… I’ve never felt more desirable.

Soon enough, I’m standing in the nude, and so is he. He looks so firm and tan, greatly contrasting my pale and soft physique. Slowly, we move together into the shower. I’m the first to step into the water. It’s hot and as gentle as rain. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, allowing it to pelt over my face and slowly soak my hair. I smell something citrusy and gingery then, and then there are hands on my head.

I don’t have to look to understand that he’s shampooing my hair for me. It’s somehow so sweet and seductive at the same time. “I can do that myself, you know,” I mutter.