Take a bath

Abbie reluctantly follows the prince’s instructions and goes into the bathroom to bathe. The sight of the room takes her breath away. It couldn’t be more different from the modest facilities in the home where she grew up. The room in which she finds herself is spacious. Gold adorns almost every fixture, and even the toilet looks like a work of art that should be placed in a museum, rather than utilized for anything as crass as its apparent use.

In the center of the room is the bath, but calling it such is a gross understatement. It is closer in size to a small pool and could easily hold a dozen people at once. It is sunk into the floor, and entering it is as easy as stepping down the steps built into two sides.

Abbie cannot see the bottom of the pool because it is filled with water and plenty of bubble bath, covering the surface with its white, fluffy suds. Steam comes up from the water, carrying the aromatic scent of perfumed soap.

Looking quickly over her shoulder to confirm that she is unobserved, Abbie quickly strips out of her travel clothes and places them on a chair. They seem so dirty and common compared to the surroundings, and she is suddenly ashamed of them.

Stepping quickly into the tub to make use of the cover of the suds, she quickly loses her sense of self consciousness. The warmth of the water covering her body is so relaxing that it is as if it is sucking all of the stress out of her pores. She closes her eyes and lets out a sigh of contentment.

“Here we go.”

The sound of Prince Duncan’s voice causes her eyes to spring open. He walks into the bathroom without knocking or asking whether she is decent. Abbie quickly looks down and confirms that the suds properly cover her nudity.

Even as she does so, she silently rebukes herself for her provincial prudeness. She was, after all, here to be a member of the king’s own harem, and sooner or later she would need to get used to an entirely different way of thinking about her privacy.

“I think this will do nicely,” says Duncan, holding out a small swatch of fabric. “What do you think, Abbie?”

He holds it out for her inspection. Abbie looks at it and is surprised at the beautiful embroidery that intricately accents the delicate material. She takes it in her hand and marvels at how lightweight it is. It is softer and lighter than the finest silk she had ever touched. She can’t imagine the kind of wealth a person must have to be able to afford such extravagent washcloths.

“It is made from the silk of the Caccoan silkworm,” he says. “It weighs practically nothing, but you could have two horses pulling with all their strength in opposite directions, and they could not tear the material.”

“It is truly amazing!” says Abbie, examining the item with great interest. She looks up and sees the prince examining her with great interest, as well. She feels self-conscious again, but reminds herself that she needs to get over such things. She is, after all, covered with suds, and she is actually exposing less of her body to his view at the moment than she did when she was wearing her traveling clothes.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she says, politely. “This will do quite nicely.”

She then takes a bar of soap and rubs it against the silk swatch before applying it to her arm, washing away the journey’s grime.

Duncan bursts out in laughter. “What are you doing, Abbie?”

She stops her scrubbing and looks up in confusion. “Sir?”

The prince’s face is alight with amusement. He says, “That isn’t a washcloth, my dear. That’s what I picked out for you to wear after your bath!”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, her eyes grow round, and her mouth falls open. She looks in bewilderment at the tiny silk item that is scarcely large enough to cover the bar of soap over which it is now wrapped. In her astonishment, she lets go, dropping the item into the water. The weight of the bar of soap sends it careening down to the bottom of the tub.

Duncan is laughing heartily, and Abbie feels her cheeks burning with embarassment. She doesn’t know if she is more embarassed by the thought of wearing nothing more than that small piece of fabric, or by her peasant-like reaction to Duncan’s words.

“I’m sorry,” she finally manages to stammer. “I hope I didn’t ruin it.” She reaches into the water to retrieve the beautiful item. The prince waves off her apologies and says, “It is of no consequence. There’s plently more where that came from. Besides, it may make a very suitable washcloth, after all.”

He kneels down by the side of the tub, pushes up a sleeve, and says, “Here... Let me help you.” Before she can say anything at all, the prince plunges his arm into the soapy water to help her find the sunken item. He seems to be of the opinion that it can be found very close to her body, because he seems to concentrate his search exclusively in the part of the tub closest to her body. In fact, his hand, wrist or arm seems to be in continual contact with her legs as he searches around the bottom of the tub.

Abbie looks up at Duncan and can see a look of focused determination. It does not appear to be based on any real desire to locate the soap, however. His eyes are fixed on her face, and she fully believes that if there were fewer suds in the water, his eyes would be taking in a lot more.

Feeling very uncomfortable, she is about to tell the prince that she can find the item herself, but she stops herself. “This could very well be a test,” she thinks. “Maybe he’s seeing whether I’m too reserved and prudish to fit in as part of his father’s harem. Maybe I’m supposed to act as if I find this all very normal — or even arousing.”

As she thinks this, the prince seems to give up his search of the area to her side and moves his hand to the other side of Abbie’s leg and begins to explore the area of the tub located between her outstretched legs.