Wet plays

My feet throb after the whole day. A hot bath is the only cure. I slide into the water and let my legs float, toes breaking the surface. Each slow kick sends little ripples across my skin. Then the lotion. I squeeze it out thick, spread it between my fingers, and start to work it over my soles. My thumbs press deep, sliding up the arch, circling the heel. The cream turns slick under the heat. I keep rubbing until my skin gleams, every inch coated, every tired muscle eased. I feel the slip, the warmth, the way my own touch keeps pulling me deeper into the moment.