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She used to clench the muscles in her buttocks to hopefully cause some shrinkage, but it never worked. She hated it when it stuck out of the edges of her seat in school. When her classmates would tease her about it, feelings of loneliness would swallow her. And when her father called her ‘fat ass,’ Janet usually ended up crying herself to sleep at night. The clock on the wall said four-thirty. Janet’s mother was in the living room watching talk shows on TV. Her father wouldn’t be home from work until six. He’d probably start in on her the minute he walked in the door. He’d say, ‘You call that dinner, fat ass!’ or ‘Hey, fat ass, did you do your homework?’ Janet wondered how Ben’s parents treated him. Better than mine, that’s for sure, she thought. Almost unconsciously, Janet walked to the door of her bedroom and locked it. She then unbuckled the belt around her waist and anxiously began to take off her pants. As they dropped at her ankles, she noticed a stain in the front of her. It must have come back to her too, for they both relaxed their embrace as one. He looks down into her eyes and smiles, running a hand through her silky hair. Then he takes her hand in his and leads her to the tub. Without letting go of her hand he bends and turns off the faucet. A part of him is shocked that the whole bathroom isn’t flooded. ‘Surely,’ he thinks, ‘it was longer than that.’ But it must not have been, because the bubble covered water is not quite to the top, steam and a light fruity sent wafting off it. Straightening, he stands facing her, hand still held gently in his. ‘Do you—,’, she begins. ‘Shhhh,’ he interrupts softly. With that he slips around her left side and behind her. The hand holding hers never breaks contact as it slides up her silk-covered arm, across her shoulder blades, and down to her right hip. He encircles her waist once again, but this time, instead of pulling her to him, he takes up the strip of black silk and slowly undoes the knot. Hands gliding.
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