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You will see.’ Everywhere. She had told him to use the depilatory cream everywhere, but he was assuming that did not include the hair on this head. What there was of it. It was starting thin a bit, more than a bit, on its own. Hair descent. That’s what his wife had teased him about when he had started to shave less often. The hair migrating from the top of his head down to his chin. All of him had been getting more hairy, little by little, over the years. Cream on his chest, underarms, arms, wrists, ankles, calves, thighs, his butt, his balls, his stomach, his groin. It tingled, no, more than tingled, it burned, and he wondered if he was allergic, if he was going to swell up into one massive pustule. The thought, literally, scared the shit out of him. So much for purging. But then he thought of what might happen to him next, and he strained to empty himself even more. Into the shower, at last, and the hair washed off of him in great gobs. He was scooping it out of the drain for five. A painting that she had made him so many years ago hung on a wall next to a doorway that led to his private chambers. She smiled again, knowing somehow that it would always be close to him, even if she wasn’t. She draped her coat on the back of the sofa and took off her boots. She pulled off her socks and sank her bare feet into the plush carpet. She padded across the room and into the adjoining chamber. The bedchamber was large, with full windows like the office. A king-size bed sprawled in the corner of the room, a table next to it with several scented candles on it. She walked over to the table, lifting a candle to her nose. She knew the smell… the smell of her perfume, of rain. She wasn’t sure if this could be unconscious on his part or not. Had he done this on purpose? Keeping her close in every way even if he couldn’t have her? The bed was unmade, the blankets were strewn across the mattress. She lay down on the cool, slick sheets, inhaling his scent. She had always wanted him.
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