Powder Room

An archway leads from the main chamber to the bath and powder room. Just beyond its semi elliptical frown, the mirror shimmers, reflecting the world it can see, perfectly inverted. Around its edges, titian and cream colored seashells are arranged, framing the view. A large starfish adorns the counter, flanked on both sides by more ruffled seashells. Its top is void of cosmetics. Only a silver handled comb and hair brush lie waiting, attended by a row of empty perfume bottles fashioned of crystal and Egyptian glass. A velvet upholstered antique stool adds it’s own flourish to the baroque powder room. It is invitingly large, it’s fawn colored cushion, rectangular in shape, suggests that more than one lady could sit here if necessary. The cast iron legs bow flamboyantly, looking as if they wish to clearly demonstrate that they have held the weight of elegant women for at least the last hundred years. The bath is beside the powder room, through another open doorway. There is a Roman air about it, not only because it is larger than necessary for a solitary bather, but also because of the manner in which it is set in the floor, in the center of the room. The tiles are all white with blue designs like Dutch delftware. There are steps built inside the bath, like the steps of a swimming pool. They extend around the entire perimeter of the bath, which, like the stool and mirror in the powder room, is rectangular. The entire space seems to be designed for lounging both in and out of the bath. Tile settees are positioned with the walls as backings. Fresh towels and white terry cloth robes hang plentifully from ornate hooks on the walls. An additional surplus is folded and stacked on one of the four settees. They have been carefully laundered so that they are soft and springy to the touch and smell of unscented detergent. In the main chamber, the carpet is a pearly mocha shag which extends into the powder room. There are a pair of complimentary dressers, one tall and one short, both simple and unassuming in appearance. Fashioned of a dark stained wood they rest against their respective walls hugging their empty drawers and looking important. The short one is wider and supports a mirror. Strings of glass beads hang from the mirrors corners, (it too is rectangular). Both dressers are home to doilies, books of pressed flowers, and decoratively placed pearls. An antique crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling catching the light and transforming it into glittering butterflies. It’s lead crystals are amber hued. The bed is big and well dressed in a subtle paisley and tone-on-tone diamond jacquard comforter peeled back to reveal Egyptian cotton sheets. The thread count is high enough that they shine like ivory satin. In their tangled midst, nestled among the strewn pillows, two figures negotiate their positions in relation to one another. The man is both muscular and pudgy with the strength of a wrestler. His sandy colored hair has been buzz cut so that the rolls of flesh at the nape of his neck are visible when he moves his head. His buttocks appear to be a little flat and a long lions tale extends from above the crack. Completely nude, he alters his position as coerced by the woman who motivates him by rubbing between his legs until she can hold his erect penis in her hand and stroke it. The long blond hair cascading over her shoulders teases his skin. The bright red lipstick painted on her supple lips contrasts with the lavender corset and thong that squeezes her breasts to attention while leaving her soft rear exposed. Their negotiations are difficult and quarrelsome. A steel sword rests against the bedside, it’s point sinking into the shag.