She hesitated briefly, but when she’d run her hand down her body, it had come away feeling slightly greasy. The only thing Mary could think was that during the turn the nanos had probably forced a lot of gunk out through her pores or something. That was a guess, however. She’d have to ask Dante about that later. In the meantime, she wanted to be clean, and knew without a doubt that if she let him into the room, cleaning would be the last thing to happen.
“Next time,” she said softly, quite sure he’d hear, then turned and walked over to open the shower door and turn it on. She adjusted the knobs until the water temperature was to her liking and then closed the door again and whipped off the T-shirt she wore. Letting it drop to the floor, Mary grabbed one of the rolled up towels on the counter and slung it over the shower door. She then glanced over the selection of tiny bottles on the counter and selected the body wash, shampoo and conditioner, then carried them into the shower with her.
Mary was usually quick about her showers. “Get in, get it done, get out” had always been her motto for showering. Today was the exception. After years of not bothering to look at her body, today she inspected every inch of it, starting at the top. Much to her surprise, this peak condition came up short in a couple of areas. For instance, she hadn’t suddenly sprouted lovely longer legs. Mary supposed she could live with that however, considering her derriere was now so awesome. Sadly, another thing was that, while she hadn’t had to shave her legs much at all since going through menopause, she’d now sprouted five-o’clock shadow all over them. She looked like a damned porcupine, and wasn’t that sexy?
The only bright side Mary could think of for that situation was that it was all just stubble and not two or three inches of extra hair growth like on her head. That would have been a horror to find for sure.
Once she’d finished cleaning and inspecting herself, Mary used the shampoo and conditioner, and then opened the shower door. Stepping out, she called out, “Dante can I use your razor?” as she grabbed the man’s travel kit that had been set on the end of the counter. Something fell to the floor as Mary snatched up the kit and she glanced down to see that it was exactly what she needed, a razor.
“Everything I own is yours, mio amore,” Dante assured her through the door as she set the travel kit back on the counter and bent to retrieve the razor. She was walking back to the shower when he added, “But I do not think Russell and Francis brought me a razor.”
“They did,” she sang out on a laugh as she stepped under the shower and pulled the stall door closed again.
“What was that?” Dante called.
“Never mind. You’ll see,” Mary responded as she picked up the body wash and began to lather some in her hands.
Mary had quite forgotten how time consuming and just plain annoying shaving your legs could be. But she simply wasn’t going back out there to the bedroom in just the T-shirt, her legs bare and imitating Bigfoot, so she took her time, performing the chore in a leisurely manner to ensure she didn’t cut herself all over the place. Going out there with bleeding legs or bits of toilet paper stuck to the cuts would not be attractive either, she was sure.
When she finally finished with her legs and under her arms, Mary stood under the water for a minute to rinse away the last of the body wash, then turned off the taps and grabbed the towel she’d slung over the door. She dried her hair and then her body, tossed the towel aside to reach for the T-shirt, then paused and grimaced. She didn’t really want to put her nice, newly clean body back in the shirt she’d worn while so slimy. There must be some residue on it and just the idea of pulling it on made her grimace.
Sighing, Mary picked up her towel again and wrapped it around herself sarong style, then used Dante’s brush to brush out her hair. He didn’t have makeup, of course, but she didn’t really need it. Her skin was flawless, her lips a healthy rose pink. She actually looked good without it, and Mary didn’t think she’d ever thought that about herself. Even when she had been young the first time.
Shrugging, she smiled at her reflection, then turned and opened the bathroom door.
Dante was seated at a small table beside the bed, a half-eaten feast on the table before him. He got quickly to his feet when she entered, though.
“I didn’t want to put the dirty T-shirt back on after showering, but I have no clothes,” Mary announced as she entered the bedroom.
“They are hanging in the closet,” Dante said. “Russell had the hotel launder them. You can put them on later. Sit now. Eat.”
Mary glanced toward the closet, but then made a beeline for the table. Now that food was on offer, she was suddenly aware that she was very hungry. Pausing beside the table, she admitted, “I’m starving.”
“I am not surprised,” Dante said, his voice a little husky. “You have not eaten in four days.”
“Really? All it took was four days for me to turn?” she asked with surprise. She would have expected longer for a transformation like this.
“You are still turning,” he assured her solemnly. “You are just through the worst of it. The rest will complete over the next weeks or months.”
“Oh,” she murmured, turning her gaze back to the food.