Hot! Redo

Had this in the queue for a while. Thought I had gotten his head too large on the other one, and discovered a few more options about Photoshop that I hadn't before. I think it looks much better. I had also expanded the story section a little more since the old one as well. Bath time for Kenny in this section...


“Hold it.”

I noticed his hands and feet. Compared to the rug, they were coated in dust. “You’re gonna need a bath.”

An alarmed expression crossed his face. “Listen, sorry. My mother told me the place has to keep clean. She‘d have a fit even if there was a small speck of dust.” I pointed to the light tan carpet and furniture. “Despite the claims, these don’t hide dirt well. And, no offense, that old house had dirt and rust everywhere. It’s probably stuck to you.”

He tilted his head in a nod. “You’re probably right.”

“Just hustle to my bathroom at the top of the stairs, second door on the right…I’ll get some things.”

I heard a little bit of grumbling, but he turned that way. He glanced a little uneasy back down the stairs at me. I went into the kitchen.

Supplies. Dish soap. Sponges. Is this the stuff they use for dealing with sludge during an oil spill? The ones on the birds? Then the linen closet. Washcloth. Extra towels. Maybe the large ones for the beach.

Into the bathroom, I found him staring at the shower curtain. He had at least taken off the cloak. I saw that hanging on the vanity. My bathroom wasn’t very large. Mint green, I tried to color with some blues to avoid that forest theme people love doing with that color. It was because my mother had painted it, and was in no mood to change it. I never got the whole, “nature in the bathroom” thing to begin with. Toilet, small vanity and mirrored medicine cabinet, shower/bath combo, the typical second story bathroom.

Those blue eyes were very uncertain.

“Hey, undress…”

Kenny went very shy. And red. I turned towards the door, giving him time. “I’m just going to help you. Those wings must be hard to reach.”

As if to demonstrate my point, he tried raising the wings, catching the shower curtain and hitting the tile wall. And that was only halfway open. I heard him give a mutter. Ouch. His clothes. He must have been trying to stretch and get the wrap undone. It was a tight fit for him. I backed up, had to, to give some room. But he managed to slide the wrap off. Didn’t want to admit that I was right…

Just a bath…

“Okay…I guess I‘m ready…”

I reached around him, turning on the faucet. He had covered with a loose towel. Then I pulled up the plunger, getting the shower spray going. He flinched at the sound of the water. It steamed rather quickly.

“Climb in.”

He complied, but then almost jumped back out. “Hot! Hot! Ahh!”

Reaching again, I turned down the dial. “Usually it takes longer. Just stay still…”

He pressed up against the tile. It was always cooler. Then he let the water cascade over his shoulders, then over his hair. He glanced my way, blushing. I kept my eyes up, to his face.

“Not used to this?”

A faint shake of his head. I reached back to the spot to where I kept shampoos.

“There was running water once. I do remember Ma having us take baths.” It was almost a whisper.

I grabbed a nearby bottle. “Can you sit down? It’s so I can reach and get this in your hair.”

“What is it? I don‘t recognize this.”

I turned the bottle over to him. “Shampoo. They combine it with a conditioner.”

He handed the bottle back and carefully moved into position. He ducked the water, so it wouldn’t get into his face. I adjusted the shower head so it washed past him, onto the wings. I squirted some shampoo in my hands and worked it in. Moving carefully around the scar, I made sure every strand got washed. The mixture turned gray. Snarls made it a little difficult. He sat quietly, curled over his knees.

“Now we let it set and do its job.”

I reached back into the pile for the kitchen sponge. Squirting some of the dish soap on it, I began from his shoulders up the wings. I also handed him the washcloth and the bar of soap. My loofah would never work on this grime. I liked the soap better than shower gels, anyway. “Start from your ears down. If you get any shampoo close to your eyes, wipe it with a corner.”

His cheeks reddened further. A thought made me dip my gaze a little lower, but I caught myself. I rubbed the sponge over his shoulder blades, careful of the transition and his scars. The gray and black spots were interesting. There was a slight grunt as tense muscles relaxed. It sounded pleased. The sponge did wonders for the grime…and the molt. I had to move in very gentle circles and in certain directions, so the feathers would let go of the built-up dirt.

Together, the job was getting done.