I stepped carefully into her bathroom and quietly locked the door behind me. Turning my head slowly from left to right, I took in the scene. My palms began to feel sticky. My pulse quickened; I could feel it in my temples. Walking over to her sink, I picked up her toothbrush and put it in my mouth like a lollipop. I sucked at the bristles, hoping to get a taste of her. I put it down, foiled, and stroked the bar of soap next to the hot tap. I rolled it over in my hands, inspecting it closely. Nothing.
I knelt down by her toilet bowl and peered into the water, a drop of sweat tumbled from my brow into the clear water with a singular "plop". There was nothing of her there. I stood too quickly, which made me feel faint for a moment, or was it the thought of her? I unzipped myself and took out my penis. Her toilet paper was pink and soft. I threaded my stiff cock through the centre of the roll and glanced at myself in the large mirror on the wall, pulsing the muscles in my crotch, making the decoration at my groin wobble up and down. I did this for a few seconds then tidied myself away. Restraint was my forte.
Brushing her shower curtain aside with one arm, I got into her bath. On all fours, I put my nose close to the plug hole and looked down into it. Something glistened inside, but it was dark and deep down there and my fingers were too thick, I knew, to fit into the little holes. I about-faced on my hands and knees and did a sweep of the enamelled surface of the bath. There was barely a smudge, and certainly no footprints. Fastidious, this one.
The hand towel was dry, and looked freshly laundered. It hadn't been touched by her so I couldn't feel the dampness removed from her skin. I squashed it against my face in any case and drew a deep breath through it. Typically, it smelt faintly of flowers. I didn't know which variety, it was not a strength. I neatly placed the towel back on the rail on the wall and then walked back over to the sink.
I stared into my eyes, and the sight was reassuring. Reflected between us was an infinite exchange of light, arcing away into an impossible curve. I thought of her trapped in every image, drawn inside my skull, haunting my senses. I grabbed at the soap again and bit a piece off the corner. My teeth marks were flat and even. I twisted my head and spat into the toilet. The bar went in my pocket for later.
The door handle rattled loudly. Adrenaline spiked into my bloodstream. There was nowhere to hide. It rattled again and I felt a body move against the door. I gulped and readied my mouth for speech.
I said nothing.
"Sarge, you in there?"
"Yes." I croaked, "What is it?"
"She's been spotted, Sir. Somewhere up North. By a bus driver. The car's waiting."
"Oh, and Sarge."
"The old dear wants to use the bathroom."
I yanked the handle, flushing away my indulgence.