Bubble Bath Delight
By Kasey Moone
When her new neighbor’s loud music continues to interrupt her bubble baths, Marissa Coldtrail decides enough is enough. It’s time to teach the metalhead a lesson. It’s time to put the infuriating man in his place once and for all. Then she sees him—and wonders just how to get the hunk in bed without losing her cool.
Brian Levine is amused by the dark beauty from next door. Her voluptuous body makes him want to turn the volume down, but he’s never been that much of the agreeing type. Still, there are other ways to resolve a friendly neighborly dispute.
Like finding a way to cool her vicious temper. Like showing her that bubble baths can’t please like metalheads can…
Marissa Coldtrail ran her hands along her smooth brown legs and sighed Heavenly. Lord. There was nothing like a warm bubble bath to calm one’s nerves. It was one of the few places where hard working chicks like herself could relax. Dreamily, she scanned the small bathroom. Near the sink, lavender candles reflected flickers in the mirror. Next to it sat her radio, where husky soulful tunes carried her deeper into meditation. Beneath hooded eyes, the pink and purple flower prints that decorated her bathroom wall looked like asymmetric stars. They gave the room a total girly flair, masking her natural tomboy-ness. But, oh well, when a girl took a bubble bath, all fantasies were possible. Shit, she could be Beyoncé in her tub. Why not?
If only she could stay in all of that deliciousness forever. Forget about her problems. Her long work hours at the lumber yard as a secretary. Her noisy mother. Her sedan that needed a major tune-up.
Yes. In a bath, one had no worries. Everything was sane.
Without warning, a tremendous sound erupted from the opposite side of the wall, yanking her from her sweet reverie. Marissa shrieked. Bubbles popped. The walls shook. Spluttering indignantly on Epsom Salt water, she clutched herself in protection, bracing for what was surely an earthquake or some sort of man-made disaster.
But a minute later everything remained calm. She stared at the wall, perplexed. Okay, not an earthquake. Not the building falling down. Of course. It was him again. Her new neighbor. Him and his loud, foul music. She slapped the water angrily. Of all the places to interrupt her peaceful Saturday.
He was really starting to piss her off. One Week. Seven Days. One hundred and sixty eight hours, she had endured his theatrics and it was getting to the point where she was considering confronting him face to face. She hated to be a nag, but dammit, there was only so much a girl could take. Why would anyone want to listen to punk music that sounded like a gang of whiny kids?
She pounded her fist on the wall. “Shut up in there!”
The music continued to roar.
“People are trying to relax!”
The music grew louder, muffling her last word. Oh, no he didn’t, he was not going to ruin her afternoon bath.
“I said, shut up!”
Adjusting herself to give the wall another good whack, she cursed when a wave of water sloshed onto the floor, ruining her beauty magazines.
In a rage, Marissa banged on the partition with all her strength. “Shut up, shut up! I’ll call Ms. Wickinson on you. I’ll have you evicted. Don’t test me!”
With a quickness that startled her, the music went dead-silent. Marissa stared at the tile, her teeth between her lips, her palms plastered on the cold ceramic, unsure of whether this was a good or bad sign. Maybe she’d really pissed him off. Maybe he’d be waiting for her in the hallway tomorrow…with a chainsaw.
Laughing at her jitteriness, she settled back into the tub. Really girl. Relax. All is well. You have your hot bath, your candles, your music, and most importantly, a quiet room. She closed her eyes, took a slow breath, and let the warm water return her to a deep, peaceful mediation.