Warm and Fresh

Clarissa was so over all the cold toilet seats. She wanted a warm cushion to rest her tush when she emptied her bladder or colon. Googling "bidet," she compared three models, but not satisfied, she continued searching. Her requirements included a heated seat and two separate nozzles, one for the front area and one for the back "dumps." Nice-to-have would be a night light, nozzle cleaners, and an easy installation. After two hours of Google research and comparisons, she made her choice.

Her purchase was not a bidet attachment or a separate bowl; nothing but the best for Clarissa, so she chose a bidet toilet seat that cost six hundred dollars. An electrician needed to install a plug for the heater, and a plumber would connect the water attachment.

<CLICK> Purchase complete and shipping email with tracking received.

One week later, the plumber installed her ensuite's new comfort feature. Clarissa could adjust the nozzle forward or back and increase or decrease the heat; the blue light lit her path in the middle of the night. She couldn't be happier once she understood and knew how to use all the features.

"Gemma, get your butt over here! I have something I want to show you; can't wait for you to try it!" Clarissa waited impatiently for her best friend to show up, anxious for Gemma's try-out of the bidet.

"Holy crap, Clary, you outdid yourself. I love it and want one. How much was this puppy?"

"With the plumber and electrician installation, it was just under eight-fifty."

"Eight hundred fifty dollars??" Gemma was astonished, but her bestie Clarissa had money to burn. "Wow, it is so nice; way to go!" She grinned at her friend, happy for her because Clarissa had been complaining for over a year about the cold toilet seat and wanting to feel fresh after using the toilet.

The following week, Clarissa told her gay co-worker, Graham, about her new bathroom feature. Graham and Clarissa frequently had Netflix nights, alternating homes. They shopped together and had dinner dates. After Gemma, Graham was her best friend.

"Oh, no, you didn't! I have been wanting one. I need to come over and see it to decide if I want to buy the same one."

Friday night, Clarissa was making carbonara, Graham's favorite pasta dish, so she didn't hear his exclamations upon using the bidet for the first time (Graham had a bad habit of not closing the toilet room door; all his friends yelled at him about it to no effect).

Garlic bread oozing with butter and an enormous green salad garnished with cucumbers, tomatoes, and olives accompanied the pasta. Clarissa only had some chianti she bought at Trader Joe's for seven dollars, so, like it or not, that was what they were drinking. Of course, she served iced water with sprigs of mint and lemon and homemade napoleons for dessert.

After dinner, they played a few games of backgammon, and Graham left at ten thirty to get his beauty sleep. They pecked each other on the cheek, and once alone, Clarissa did her nightly ablution and quickly fell asleep under the comforter.

A few weeks later, Mason, her French "friend with benefits," spent the night. They drank a little too much, and Clarissa was tipsy, so he helped her onto the toilet. Mason was quite familiar with the separate-bowl European bidets. Clarissa relieved herself while Mason held her up straight on the toilet, exclaiming how fancy her toilet seat bidet was. He helped her into the bed and returned to use the toilet.

Mason had moved to the U.S. five years ago and spoke four other languages besides French. He dreamed in French, and when talking to himself, he always spoke in his native language. As he closed the toilet room door (Mason was more polite than Graham), he heard a low noise, like a person clearing their throat. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" he mumbled to himself. He stood to urinate, so he didn't use the bidet's sprayers or feel the warmth of the heated seat. When he flushed, he was sure he heard a giggle, yet was a bit off-center from the two glasses of red wine (considered a must for the polyphenols and other health reasons), followed by a dark lager.

Clarissa had passed out on the bed, and he couldn't wake her, so pulled her into his arms and fell asleep.

In the morning, Mason rolled over, whispering in French to Clarissa, ready for morning sex. Afterward, they made French Press coffee (of course), and ate almond croissants with chunks of hard cheese accompanied by sliced boiled eggs. After their breakfast, the couple went running together and kissed goodbye at Mason's car. He left workout clothes at her place but was now eager to get to the pool and do laps before an early Sunday dinner.

That evening, Gemma came to Clarissa's for their usual Sunday dinner and a movie. She brought a cold-cut tray and Chablis to go with the grilled salmon Clarissa was making. After dinner, the women took a brisk walk in the humid evening air while there was still some sunlight.

"Hey, do you mind if I shower quickly and use some of your toiletries?" Gemma felt sticky and icky and wanted a refresh. The women were the same size and frequently borrowed each other's clothes.

"No problem. You know where everything is. I'll put a clean T-shirt and a pair of my sweats out for you."

Gemma was singing in the shower as she washed her hair, but when she rinsed it, she heard a low whistle. Gemma froze, wondering where it came from. When it was quiet, she continued rinsing off and then wrapped herself in a towel. She heard the whistle again as she smoothed some luxurious cream into her long legs. Goosebumps rose, and she ran out into the living room.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone is whistling at me in your bathroom! Are their two-way mirrors or hidden cameras?" She was clutching the towel tightly around her.

"Of course not! What are you talking about?"

"Whistling. I heard it twice. Someone can see me and is watching me naked!"

Clarissa unscrewed the lightbulbs and looked. She ran her hands under the furniture in the bedroom and examined anything she could think of where a hidden camera or microphone could be. (Her hobby of watching every detective and crime solver show made her an amateur sleuth detective, and she usually solved the cases she watched.)

"I didn't find anything, Gem, please calm down."

"I'm going home; I don't want to watch a movie."

"I'm so sorry you are spooked. I honestly don't know what you perceived as whistling."

"Perceived? You just insulted me! I heard it twice. Good night, Clarissa!"

"I'll walk you to your car."

"No need. I might perceive some other noise and annoy you with my imaginings!"

"Gem, don't be like that. I'm walking you to the car."

When they reached the car, Clarissa grabbed her best friend in a tight hug. "I love you, Gemma. Drive safe and text me when you get home."

Clarissa woke at three thirty a.m. to use the toilet. Once she opened the bathroom door, the bidet's blue night light lit her steps. A chuckle froze her right as her toes crossed the threshold from the bedroom to the bathroom. No one is here but me; what was that? She could feel her heart fluttering, but she really needed to pee, so she stepped toward the toilet. The light of the bidet was enough so there was no need to flick on the overhead light. The warmth of the seat on her buttocks soothed her, not shocking her like the former cold seat. She decided not to use the spray because the first second was cold until the "always on" heated water came through. As she reached for a tissue, she heard a voice.

"Clarissa, don't you want to spray your tush? It is nice and warm and cleanses you so when you climb back into bed, there are no worries."

"What the hell? Who is in here?" she exclaimed.

"It's me."

"Who is ME?"

"Geez, Clarissa, for someone so smart and put together, you sure are stupid."

Silence.

"Clarissa. Take the remote and press the button for the front spray, please."

"Who the fuck are you??"

"Now Clarissa, there is no need for foul language."

"I'm calling the police."

Laughter, loud, rolling, hilarious laughter.

"Push the front spray button, Clarissa; it will calm you."

She looked at the remote in its holder on the wall, then leaned down and peeked between her legs into the toilet bowl all lit up by the blue light.

"Yes, Hon, you have it right, I'm down here. Well, I'm under your buttocks. They are very nicely formed buttocks, Clarissa; I like them better than Graham's! And why doesn't he close the damned door when he is using the toilet?"

`Copyright © 4/17/2024 by Andrea O. Corwin

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