Slippery When Wet Part 1
“Why does it feel like I fell asleep only an hour ago?” Winry Rockbell mumbled to herself as she set her empty coffee mug in the kitchen sink. A glance out the window told her it was early afternoon, judging by the short shadows given off the trees and bushes in the backyard. She yawned, stretched for a long moment, and scratched at her stomach through her nightgown.
‘I’d love to go back to bed, but the day’s half over and I need to get back to work on that rush project that kept me up so late. Good thing I’m almost done with it.’ Sighing with resignation, she headed upstairs to wash up, brush her teeth, and get dressed for the day.
Her hobbled together breakfast of a left over dinner roll and coffee began to revive her, and she felt rather good by the time she mounted the stairs. When she approached the bathroom door, her mood shifted. The sound of running water came from behind the slightly ajar door, making Winry suspicious. ‘Did Granny leave the water on? That’s not like her…’
Wait a minute…there had been no one around when she’d first gone downstairs. Winry had searched the house after rising, but turned up nothing more than a cool, quiet house without any trace of its other occupant. Her automatic assumption was that Granny had gone into town or visited the neighbors; was it possible her grandmother had been somewhere about yet still managed to slip past her notice? Even for an old woman she could be notoriously quiet, and Winry couldn’t count the number of times her grandmother’s silent approach had caught her unawares. Lately, that seemed to happen more often, especially when a particular golden-haired alchemist came for adjustments on his automail…
Winry grasped the doorknob and gently pressed her shoulder against the worn wood. A thick fog of steam greeted her, immediately dampening her face and wilting her hair. She squinted at the oversized enclosure situated in the corner of the room, which was nothing more than an opaque plastic curtain strung around a small diameter L-shaped pipe suspended from the ceiling by brackets. She strained to see the occupant of the shower through the haze, but the steam continued to billow around her and obstruct her view.
Logically, it had to be her grandmother, but it made no sense that she would leave the door ajar and unlocked. Was something wrong?
“Hello?” she called out as she leaned around the door. “Granny?”
“Hell no, it’s not Granny!” an irritated and all too familiar male voice shot back, one she was rather surprised to hear. “Get out! I’d like to take my shower without spectators!”
A mix of relief and surprise swept through her; it was only Ed.
Then another question leapt to mind: Ed and Al had returned home this morning? With her tendency to be a deep sleeper, Winry wouldn’t have stirred if a bomb had gone off beside her, so it was no wonder she hadn’t heard the arrival of her childhood friends. It also hadn’t helped that Ed was being himself and hadn’t called ahead to let her know they were coming home.
Now that they were here, or at least Ed as far as she could tell, she wondered where both her grandmother and Al were at the moment. The only living thing she’d found earlier was an aged Den on the front porch, sleeping in the sun.
So, how had Ed managed to elude her during her search of the house? He wasn’t always the quietest person, especially considering his left leg was made of metal.
“Well, hello to you, too!” Winry shot back. “Nice of you to let me know you were coming home today! Where’s Al? And, by the way, what the hell’s your problem? Close the door and lock it when you’re using the bathroom!”
“Yeah, yeah,” came his sardonic reply. “Al went into town with the old hag. Now get out!”
Satisfied with his answer, Winry started to duck out, only to pause as an additional thought crossed her mind, “Just why are you home, anyway?” she asked suspiciously. “Did you break--”
“Can we discuss this after I’m out of the shower and DRESSED?” Ed’s voice was edgy and nervous as it came from behind the opaque plastic curtain, the last word coming out in practically a snarl. Winry held back a snicker; he made it much too easy to torment him.
“Oh, come on, Ed,” she intoned, trying her best to keep the mirth out of her voice. “Why can‘t we? It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before.” Winry was amused by his modesty and obvious discomfort with her proximity. “Well, almost naked, anyway.”
A strangled roar of frustration came from behind the curtain. Then, much to Winry’s surprise, a bar of soap bounced off the door mere inches from her nose.
“Why you--” Her words came out in a threatening growl. He’d almost hit her!
Her amusement swiftly turned into indignant anger and her fingers twitched in reflex. What she wouldn’t give to have her trusty wrench in hand right now! Her rising ire fueled her thirst for revenge; she wanted to get even, and put Ed in his place for his bratty behavior.
One by one, iniquitous scenarios flashed through her head as her anger bordered on rage: she could wait until his next automail re-attachment and make it more torturous than usual. Or she could hide all his alchemy books and research notes—it would be fun watching him search for them, running about in a rant-induced panic. She could also do something as simple as loosening the lid on the saltshaker, but all these ideas and more were too juvenile, and none of them would grant her immediate gratification.
She wanted to get REALLY even, NOW!
When her eyes settled on the commode next to the shower enclosure, a devious scheme came to her; there was one fast way to get even and it was so simple and easy that she couldn’t help but smirk with satisfaction. It was the perfect punishment that would also grant her the immediate gratification she craved.
All she had to do was flush the toilet.
Winry flung the door open hard enough to cause it to clap against the wall and strode purposely toward her weapon of choice. ‘Little twerp! Maybe if I scorch his butt, he’ll remember not to throw things at me like a spoiled brat!’ As she approached the porcelain fixture, Winry happened to notice the offending bar of soap on the floor next to the shower enclosure. ‘And after a good scalding, perhaps bouncing this off his hard head will finish putting my point across!’ Without slowing down, she made a slight detour and gracefully bent to scoop up the makeshift missile.
Her revenge didn’t go as planned; as her fingers grasped the slippery rectangle of soap, the shift in her center of gravity coupled with the slippery tiles next to the shower stall caused an unanticipated reaction. Her bare feet moved erratically as she suddenly lost traction, and she wound her arms in a futile attempt to right herself. Too late, she noticed Ed had splashed a fair amount of water out from under the curtain. With the thin glaze the soap had left in its wake, the normally innocuous surface was now slick as ice.
At first, it seemed like she might win her struggle to stay upright as her body righted itself for a heartbeat. In the next instant, Winry found her feet going out from beneath her as she finally lost her battle with both gravity and momentum. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she felt herself go down hard onto her backside, before her forward inertia carried her on her back, through the shower curtain, and into the blinding spray from the showerhead. The feeling of overly warm water instantly drenching her confounded her senses, making her sputter in astonishment. She felt her long blonde hair stick to her face and scalp, and the thin cotton nightgown, which was now up around her waist, promptly adhered to her skin.
Stunned by the sudden turn of events, Winry pawed away her wet hair, only to look up helplessly into the horror-filled liquid gold eyes of one, Edward Elric. His hands were frozen mid-lather in his hair, leaving the rest of his body completely unguarded. Suds obscured most of his damp locks, and rivulets of white foam flowed down over his shoulders and chest, forming a path for her eyes to follow. Involuntarily, her gaze was drawn lower to his abdomen, where toned muscles left defined ridges. Winry absently wondered just when he had gotten so ripped—was it before or after his last automail adjustment…? Or even longer before that…? Her eyes continued their journey downward until they reached his groin.
It was her turn for her eyes to go wide. The bar of soap leapt from her fingers when her hand reflexively tightened into a fist, and scooted across the floor to stop near the drain.
“Wha-what THE HELL?!!” Ed roared. “WINRY?!!”
Her gaze shot back up to his face, which had gone very red and eyes so wide it looked as if they were ready to pop out of his head. His automail hand flew to the washcloth hanging from a hook attached to the wall, yanking it free to frantically cover himself.
Ilustrations by Len Barboza
Almost instantaneously Winry was flooded with her own embarrassment. She scrabbled on the soapy, wet tiles, desperately struggling to regain her footing without the advantage of a bath mat for traction. She was only able to rise as far as her elbows before falling back, and after several failed attempts she finally gave up and rolled onto her stomach.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she repeated over and over as she tore her gaze away from possibly the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen in her short adult life. Winry scurried back under that shower curtain and flailed her way across the room on hands and knees. In her hurry to exit the bathroom, she made no effort to stand until she was in the hallway, where the flooring was wood and not linoleum. She then made a hasty retreat to her room without bothering to close the bathroom door behind her. A trail of water marked her passing, leaving behind damp footprints and small pools of water.
Once in the safety of her room, Winry slammed the door closed and threw her weight against it. She stared into the familiar confines with unfocused eyes, her mind racing in frenzied circles.
What the hell had just happened?!!
The dynamics between her and Ed had changed in the blink of an eye, shifting the carefully balanced relationship between them that always kept them at arm’s length. Now the implied barrier between them was gone, vanishing the instant they had seen each other in an adult context, their playful innocence now giving away to once forbidden knowledge.
For years, Winry had loved Ed, but feared he didn’t share her feelings. There had never been more than handholding, which she always had to initiate, or an occasional gentlemanly gesture on his part; sometimes he remembered to allow her to walk through a door he’d just opened as opposed to walking through it first and leaving her to fend for herself. He never seemed to notice any of the subtle hints she had given him over the years, such as baking him apple pie, wearing more feminine clothing, or not always beating him to a pulp when he returned home with damaged automail. Winry had always chalked it off to Ed’s usual cluelessness about anything that wasn’t spelled out for him. After all, it was a well-known and simple fact that Ed could be very thickheaded when it came to anything stated in less than blunt terms.
So Winry had waited…and waited…and waited for the boy, now a man, to give her some hint as to how he felt about her. As much as she would like to press him into confessing his feelings, she knew he would only dismiss her inquiry rather than admitting to anything. More than likely it would have the opposite effect and cause him to become withdrawn and sullen. Winry knew he had be somewhat interested in her as more than just a friend, because more than once, she had caught him staring at her with an odd, unreadable expression in his eyes. Yet, the instant he would notice her returning his gaze, he would look away and either walk off or make a snarky remark, like he often did when he’d been caught red handed doing something he shouldn’t.
Unprompted, the sight of Ed’s all-too-perfect body rose in her mind’s eye, making her body respond with an exhilarating tingle that ran up her spine and made her jaw go slack. Winry closed her eyes and reviewed every detail of Edward’s delectable body.
…Water and foam from the shampoo threading down his strong, corded neck, lazily flowing over his broad shoulders and down his pecs. His chest, well developed and rippling with the movement of his arms, was aesthetically balanced by the automail port, the hard steel complimenting the hardened muscles. His ribs, also layered with muscles, led one’s eye down to the defined undulation of his abdominals...
She momentarily wondered what it would be like to touch them, to find out if they were as solid as they looked…
Smooth furrows curving down from the top of his obliques drawing her gaze still lower, accentuating the patch of dark blond hair where the dual lines met at the bottom.
And below that…
Winry sighed when she recalled the sight. The very memory of the image caused her heart to race and her body hum. He was so much better…endowed than any of her fantasies had even come close to and so different in appearance from when they were very small children bathing together.
After having the opportunity of appreciating his physique with her own eyes, Winry felt her body stir with longing. He was perfection, from the top of his golden blond head to the silver tips of his automail toes and, oh, how she wished she could touch him, wished that he would touch her, in ways that only mature adults could do. She longed to explore the uncharted territory that was Edward Elric’s body with both fingers and tongue, learning his every peak and valley, every scar, and commit it all to memory. She wanted to discover where he was soft, where he was hard, to feel his touch on her and in her, to know him completely. He was everything she’d ever hoped for, fantasized about for so long, yet she could only imagine how it would feel to make love to him.
Now her body ached like it never had during previous fantasies, and the yearning became so strong that she wanted to cry with frustration. She fought back an almost overwhelming urge to touch herself, to bring herself to a quick and satisfying peak.
‘No! Not now!’
Not when Ed was down the hall where he could overhear her; she doubted if she’d be able to stay quiet.
Winry bit her lip and took in a slow, deep breath as she struggled to calm the stormy mix of hormones, desire, and attraction controlling her thoughts. She wanted him, longed for him to want her, but the prospects of him returning those feelings seemed rather dim and this thought depressed her.
Would they ever be more than just friends?
A shiver shook her body, not from denied lust, but from the effect of the wet nightgown and the cool air against her skin. Her teeth began to chatter, rudely pulling from her erotic musings and she rubbed at her upper arms for warmth.
“I’d best get into dry clothes,” Winry mumbled through a tense jaw, “But I should dry off first--.” Of course, all the towels were in the bathroom…where Ed was at the moment. She groaned with annoyance. She would catch a chill if she waited much longer, but didn’t want to pull on dry clothes without first drying herself off.
The door to her closet was open, revealing part of her limited wardrobe, and she eyed it with hope. There were mostly casual shirts, a number of pull-on tops, a few skirts, a small number of dresses, and a small variety of jeans, but nothing she was willing to put on in her current state of soggy.
Wait…was that a terrycloth robe hanging from the door? Winry sighed with relief. She’d forgotten all about the birthday gift Granny had given her last year; it would be perfect to not only dry off with but could also offer warmth.
Winry crossed the room, skinning the dripping nightgown over her head and tossing it into the laundry basket just inside her closet door. She hurried into the thick lavender bathrobe, grateful for its soft, warm comfort as she pulled it tight around herself and tied the sash at her waist.
“Ah, much better,” she murmured then frowned at the clammy, cold feel of her waterlogged panties on her skin; they followed the nightgown into the laundry basket. She rummaged through the top drawer of her dresser and chose a dainty pink pair from the row of neatly folded lingerie. When her eyes spied a modestly embellished paper box in the back corner, Winry frowned. There, secreted behind her folded bras, was the small box of condoms she’d acquired during her last trip to Central.
She’d bought them on a whim, optimistic that Ed would eventually make the first move and escalate their friendship first into romance, then into something more intimate and connecting. But days, then weeks, had gone by and the moment never came, leaving Winry in possession of a box of perfectly wrapped condoms. It was as if the muted cardboard container was mocking her, making fun of her current dilemma even though it held nothing more than twelve lengths of sealed sheep’s intestine, neatly rolled up into discs and modestly encased in waxed paper wrappers.
Winry stared at them accusingly; it was as if they were taunting her by their sheer presence alone.
Yes, she had bought them with high hopes and, yes, she knew if Ed ever decided to take that big step, she couldn’t rely on him to be prepared. As blissfully clueless as he seemed to be about the simple facts of life, Winry knew better than to leave birth control up to the young alchemist. She didn’t want to risk something as important as a baby until they were both ready for it. Such as, say, after marriage?
Yeah, right. As if that was ever likely…
Still, a girl could hope.
Winry felt a flush of warmth rush through her despite the residual chill from her wet nightgown. She set down her panties and picked up the package to finger it wistfully. At this rate she’d be waiting forever.
Now that she’d seen her own version of the nirvana, she was left to deal with her sexual frustration alone. Too bad she couldn’t corner him and make him decide how he felt about her. If he were cornered he couldn’t run…
For the second time in only minutes, another ingenious plan formulated in her head. It was so beautiful and perfect in its simplicity that Winry was astounded she had never thought of it before.
Then again, the opportunity had never presented itself quite like this before, either.
Yes, Ed could make it too easy sometimes.
A wicked grin tugged at her lips as she took one of the packets from the box and stuffed it into the pocket of her robe.