whirlpool bath

All my cares floated away from me as I closed my eyes and lay back into the beautifully warm, bubbly water. For that moment, nothing mattered. My jeans, sweater, boots, even my underwear were thoroughly drenched. I had no dry clothes to change into. I’d have to go home dripping wet. I didn’t care. Below the surface I undid the zipper of my jeans and allowed my fingers to slip inside, lightly brushing the soaked cotton of my panties.
“Miss,” the flustered salesman stammered, “if you’re not going to buy the hot tub I’m afraid you’ll have to get out.”

River of dreams

The river

I took this photo yesterday, a crisp but bitterly cold January morning. Walking along by the river, I thought about a comment someone had left on my blog, about how he was in the habit of getting wet in lakes or rivers whenever he felt like it, and how I should just do the same. Obviously he’d never been to Musselburgh. If I’d gone in the river yesterday I don’t think I’d have made it back to the car without freezing solid. But it seems that the idea stayed in my subconscious. Let me tell you about the dream I had last night, which I promise is 100% true and not made up for click bait… » Read more