The Finish Line

Originally Posted to Deviantart on July 27, 2018.

You reach out for a final time and push the gear shifter forward. The motor goes quiet as you withdraw the key. A choir of tiny bugs chirp into the starry night, greeting your ears but numbing your exhausted mind. While you climb to your aching feet, one long sigh escapes you as your heavy legs lumber towards your front door. You sort through your keys before finding a smaller brass one. It glides into the lock and rolls the weighted tumblers until you hear a soft click.

Once inside, you reach out against a wall, fumbling in search of a light switch. The lights produce a dull hum as they illuminate your home. You continue your tired walk deeper into your sanctuary until you reach your room.

You take a seat atop the thick, plush blankets that cover your bed. Fluffy pillows, always cool, soft and crisp, call out to you to lay your dizzy head down. Instead, you lift your legs and press against the heels of your shoes, sending them tumbling to the ground.

Now that you can feel the cushy carpet against sock-clad feet, you rise up, rejecting the bedding. Your ankles pang in protest as they take on your weight, but you continue to stroll towards the kitchen. You lick your lips as you approach your refrigerator.

There’s no rumble in your stomach, but there is a sticky dryness in your mouth and a thin layer of sweat all over your skin. You grip the nearest bottle of water and twist the cap away before slipping it’s opening between your lips.

A cool, revitalizing wave rushes down your overheated insides. That first chilling liquid in hours almost makes you jump. You take a moment to breathe, before slipping the bottle in your mouth a second time. As much as you try to chug, you can’t recreate that wonderful feeling. After taking another breath, you toss the drained bottle in the trash and make your way to your bathroom.

Soon, you stand between your laundry basket and your shower. You let out another tired groan as you reach for plastic buttons. One by one, your fingers unfasten the restrictive, logo-bearing uniform. There isn’t a second thought as you drop it in the basket. It’s only one piece, but you already smile at what you see in the mirror. Staring back is a woman, tired, but closer to her natural form.

You brush your auburn hair out of your face before your hands wander to your hips. They pull a zipper down on the matching skirt and send it fluttering to the cool tile floor. Your creamy legs kick the repulsive material towards the shirt. The mirror shows your approach to your true appearance. Only your bland, white bra and panties can claim you’re part of the man-made world.

You reach for the clasp of your bra without hesitation. They’re boring, ordinary with a eggshell white color. Its simple design put functionality over Feng Shui. In seconds, your fingers attack the clasp and release your humble chest. You take an unrestrained breath as you discard the underclothing.

The panties, unassuming like the bra before them, cling to your hips in feeble defiance. You smirk and slip your thumbs under the waistband. Your thin curls peek above the piece of unnatural modesty as you pull it further down your smooth legs. As the panties hit the ground, you step out and grip them. They fall into the laundry hamper.

As you shed your socks, you hear a sudden kick of a motor. A rush of cool air begins to flow into your bathroom. It embraces your tired form, washing over you and sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. The thin layer of sweat highlights the chill fluttering over you. You place your hands on the bathroom counter and lean into the airflow.

The crisp air conditioning blowing over your naked body is as refreshing as the drink of water. You’re still weary, but far more relaxed under the cool, yet counterfeit winds soothing you. It’s hard to move, both from feeling tired and the euphoric air gliding over you. Before long, you are more than cooled off. In fact, you’re cold.

One quiet squeak and hot water begins to rain down from the showerhead. You wave your hand under the downpour. Right away, you feel the overwhelming heat and you don’t wait to reach for the cooler knob. It takes some adjustments, but false rain reaches a more desirable temperature. Hot, but not so much you couldn’t approach it. Steam begins to fill the bathroom as you step inside and draw the shower drapes shut.

The difference between the cold air and the steaming water makes you gasp, but you don’t recoil. Instead, you place your hands on the wall and lean forward, bathing your body in hot moisture. You can feel it soaking your hair and run down your body. Tiny rivers run along your curvy backside. A content hum escapes your lips as you hold yourself in place, letting the wather flow.

You’re still dizzy from the exhausting day. You stare at the bar of soap and lower yourself to your knees. You take another long breath and close your eyes, embracing the stream as it sprays every curve of your body. After mentally reminding yourself why you’re here, you open your eyes and pick up the soap.

Your hand guides it’s slippery path over your body, bringing a sweet strawberry scent with it. You slide it over your soft thighs, soothing your naked chest and delicate skin. It takes all your willpower, but you force yourself to stand up and rinse away the lovely suds and bubbles. One more minute under the synthetic steam and you brush your soaking hair out of your face. You twist the knobs until the shower comes to an end, draining away the sweet atmosphere.

You step out and grab a fluffy, baby blue bath towel and press it into your body. You raise one leg onto the rim of the tub and proceed to dry off. Each fiber caresses you as it picks up droplets of water, leaving silky skin in its wake. Once dry, you switch legs, taking your time and allowing a long yawn. The towel presses into every curve of your form until you secure it around your chest.

You press the second towel into your long, wet hair. It needs more work than the rest of your body. Another yawn escapes you as you put a hand against the wall keep from stumbling out of the shower. Thick, humid fog floods out onto the ground as you step out, heading back towards your bedroom.

After a minute of drying, you drop the second towel and let the messy strings of hair drape over your shoulders. You look at your dresser, seeing the hair drier on top of it. A shudder runs through you at the very thought of the noise that contraption would make.

Instead, you look at your bed again. Cushioned blankets and fluffy pillows make a second bid for your attention. They look soft, inviting, and far more tempting to your weary head than last time. You let the remaining towel fall to the floor, the soft fibers tickling your skin on its way down.

You think about your usual sleepwear, one of your comfier pairs of panties and a loose t-shirt. But the bed sat closer to you than your dresser. All you can think about is collapsing into that cloud of blankets. You let out another yawn, long and slow as you stretch your arms. Your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Your next steps are towards a light switch, and after a quiet flick, you welcome calm darkness into the room.

You don’t even think about those restrictive fabrics anymore. Instead, you lumber towards soft pillows and climb onto the mattress. The cuddly blankets cushion your tender body as you surrender to the comfort.

A tiny smirk appears on your face.

As you crawl under the covers, you hum as the cloud-like blankets massage your body. A fluffy pillow welcomes your tired head as you lay down. You sigh and sink into the warmth. The sensations against your naked form are distracting, but soothing at the same time. Still, the act puts certain thoughts on your head. Your hand shifts under the covers, in search of your hips. Fingertips tap against your thighs before moving in. One content hum escapes you as your gentle hand presses into your delicate labia. One finger twitches before the hand goes limp.

The only sound is your soft snores.