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The water hit her squarely on the buttocks.
Snaking down it ran red between her toes; crimson pooling around tiny toes lined up like people in a bank queue.
"Damn bony ankles," Lily cussed as droplets of blood from the tiny nick at her ankle clouded the water at her feet.
She dabbed at the spot with a sponge, enjoying the tingle, wishing the cut went deeper, burnt more.
She stepped out of the stall dripping water and blood onto her clothes left scattered on the floor where she stepped out of it.
The flickering fluorescent lights casting shadows over her caramel skin, hummed gently in the quiet house. She bent down (tendrils clinging to her cheeks, her neck and her shoulders) grabbing a newer, sharper blade out of the bathroom cupboard.
She made her way across the tiled floor, slippery in places, clutching her familiar friend. Shivering she got back into the shower, welcoming the warm spray on cooled skin.
She let the water lull her and she stood swaying; dreaming of vacation days, warm tropical breezes, white sandy beaches, and secret forbidden kisses.

The blade, forgotten in her hand, cut her palm in places. She was transported and transformed by the pain to a place where she was not broken, not-Lily.
Not-Lily luscious in Love.
Not-Lily luminous and lovely.
Not-Lily loved by a gentle soul carved from black marble and heated by fire.
Through the haze he appeared...
The patio door opened and he stepped inside. He was beautiful, and he came to her carrying white lilies, wearing nothing but a smile. She stood in front of him with sun kissed cheeks, her hair spun in gold waves, and the bronze of the gods coating her skin. Her white cotton sun dress clung to her curves making his eyes cloud over and his mouth drool. He came to her placing a flower behind each ear and let his fingers linger on soft lobes. He whispered, his warm breath scenting the air with strawberries: "Make me more than a man! he said moving his head to her breasts.
She held him to them, and like Hercules, he became more.
Lucy leaned back against the glass, her bum making squishing sounds as her breath became laboured.
She heard a banging, snapped out of her reverie and opened her hand letting  the blade fall to the floor.
"Lill!" he shouted, banging at the bathroom door.
He was loud: he spoke loud, loved loudly and fought louder still.
"For god sake, Lilly, open the frikken door!"
Her dream man evaporated like mist in the sunlight.
She flicked the key allowing him in.
His face was livid, his eyes darting, scanning the room, squinting to see in the steamy bathroom.
He spied the blade lying on the shower floor leaving trails of red.
"Again? You're doing it again, Lil?" he said his eyes filled with accusations.
"No, no! You've got it all wrong! I was grooming, getting ready for you, for tonight."
She leaned into him, wet, naked, clean: "I know how you like me."
She reached for his hand still icy from coming in from the cold and placed it on her: "Smooth..."
" silk," he grunted as he gripped her hard.

"Good," he said turning away, "I brought ice cream, Vanilla with chocolate waves."
She knew what to do with ice cream.
"Get the big spoon!" she said to his back, " It's in the freezer!"

She leaned in turning the shower off; and when he wasn't looking, she bent down, picked up the blade from the floor and ran her thumb over it until it bled and she was left dreaming of vacation days, warm tropical breezes, white sandy beaches, and secret forbidden kisses.

She made her way wet to the bedroom running her hands over the welts that lined her arms, and she was ready.

A note of thanks to David Kent  for prompting me with these words:
"dreaming of vacation days, warm tropical breezes, white sandy beaches, and secret forbidden kisses."

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