DISCLAIMER: Neither Wen nor I own them. We'd like to but that's another story. Neither Wen nor I receive any money for writing these little snippets. We do, however, derive great pleasure from torturing people with thoughts of Vin, wet and naked. If you want more, let us know.

RATING: Probably NC-17 for nudity

RELATIONSHIPS: Vin and a tub of water

Vin's Bath Night
by Wen - Part 1 (Challenge)
and Rita Clark - Part 2 (Answer)

Part 1

He'd always left town to do this. You know- the Secluded Lake thing, or the Waterfall thing. Gave all the women something to ponder. But it was hot. Hotter than the Gates of Hades and the bathhouse was right here, and it was empty. Of course it was empty. It was past midnight and it was closed, but locked doors never stopped Vin Tanner before, and the thought of a big metal tub full of cool, clear water seemed worth a little breaking and entering. Especially on a night that seemed as though the full moon itself was heating the air, making his shirt stick to his back and his hair damp and curly from the sweat.

By the time he had the tub full of cold water from the pump, he was already down to just his cream-colored pants, with the suspenders hanging down his sides. The flow of the water had been irresistible, so he had stuck his head under it to soak his long hair, and now the water trickled down his tan shoulders that were taut from the work of pumping and carrying the water, down his back, soaking the waistband of his pants.

Part 2

Well, it had taken a hell of a long time carrying the heavy buckets of water by himself, but the tub was finally filled as much as he wanted it to be. Going over to the lamp he had lit on the desk in the far corner, he turned the wick down even more. Now the large room contained just enough light for him to see. Even though all the shades were pulled tightly, he sure as hell didn't want anyone wandering by and finding him out.

He sat down on the chair he had pulled over to hang his shirt, hat and gunbelt from and pulled off his dusty boots and grimy socks with relief. Glancing once more at the curtained windows and the re-locked door, he unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to the floor. He picked them up and threw them over the chair and, after a luxurious cat-like stretch, he stepped into the cool water. Grabbing the sides of the large tub, he sank down slowly, immersing his hot, aching muscles into the comforting bath. Leaning against the higher back of the tub, he sighed in deep pleasure. He enjoyed the comfort and privacy for a long time before reaching for the cloth, backbrush and soap he had laid in readiness on top of the stack of towels.

Finally, realizing the lateness of the hour, he set to work lathering up the cloth and the brush and used each one in turn, scrubbing the dust of his last ride away and massaging the sore muscles from his hours on horseback. Reluctantly he ended his late night interlude by standing up and reaching for the two last buckets of still clean water he had carried in. He poured the first one over his body slowly while still standing in the tub, rinsing away all the soap. Then he stepped out and used the last one to rinse his long hair by standing on one of the towels to spare the floor as much as possible and leaning over the tub.

He used two of the rough towels to dry off thoroughly and reluctantly pulled his pants and boots back on. He drew the line at the dirty socks and the sweat soaked shirt, so he just bundled the dirty clothes under his arm and carried his gunbelt over his shoulder. Stopping at the desk he carefully laid down twice the amount of money that was usually charged for a bath, seeing as how he had sorta opened the place up himself after hours.

He carefully unlocked and opened the door and scanned the street. Nothing. It was really late and even the street fires were almost burnt out. He made sure the bathhouse door was securely locked again and smiled, wondering what the proprietor would think when he discovered he'd had an after hours customer. Wearing only the worn boots, pants and with the leather suspenders hanging loosely from his shoulders he carried the bundle of dirty clothes to his wagon, whistling quietly as he went. Now he could sleep.

Comments? Feedback to: rockgirl@mwci.net and ritalois@yahoo.com