Ice-cold water being poured over his head brought Greg Sanders back to reality. He frowned as the reailzation hit him that he was very much indeed not at a luxury hotel with Sara eating a four-star restaurant dinner on the balcony over-looking the courtyard. Shutting his eyes as soap was poured over his head, he looked down at the concrete that served as the floor of the shower as the soap fell onto the ground. When the soap was washed away, he cracked one eye open, only to catch a glimpse of a perfectly-tanned, freckle-dusted leg.
Oh shoot! he thought to himself, That's Sara's leg! He tried to be a gentlemen. He tried to turn away as best he could. But it was one of those things where he couldn't stare at it, yet he couldn't bare to tear his eyes away from it. Just a glimpse, just a little...peek...is okay, right? he asked himself. Looking over at her leg again, he watched as a trail of water and soap dripped down her thigh, and his eyes immediately followed it. Turn away, turn away, turn away! he thought to himself.
He felt eyes burning into the back of his head. He knew that feeling. His head shot him and he made eye-contact with Sara. Shoot! Did she see me? I tried to turn away, I swear I did! he thought to himself, as if he were actually apologizing to her right then and there. As they made eye-contact, Greg quickly turned away as more cold water was poured onto his head.
Greg brought his gaze back down to the ground. Just look at the ground, look at the ground, look at the ground, he told himself. But then he caught a glimpse of a foot. Must...not...look...
Greg looked. Sara's firm and perfectly-curved calve led him down to her ankles. And then he saw the tattoo on her foot. A blue sun. I didn't know she had a tattoo... Greg thought. And then he mentally slapped himself in the face. Duh, you idiot! You're not supposed to know she has a tattoo! You wouldn't know unless YOU WERE LOOKING, YOU PERVERT!
Greg turned around so that his back was facing Sara. Almost done, Sanders...think of something else, don't think about how soft and silky smooth her skin must feel... That was not helping Greg's situation. No! Think of something else... he thought, a lake! Right, a lake... This was still not helping Mr. Sanders. Thinking of a lake ultimately ended up with him imagining him and Sara splashing each other in a lake, both of them getting sopping wet, and then him carrying her into a log cabin by the lake and sitting down in front of a warm fire with her in his lap.
