Marian's Garden 02: The Hose

We return to work and do so for a couple hours only interrupted by breaks to re-apply sunscreen and check for developing blisters. When Jack's got the underbrush reasonably cleared, his long sleeved shirt comes off. I can see his hairs are sticking to his chest with sweat. He drinks another water bottle, pouring what's left over himself. Then Jack grabs the shovel to help me. After a couple wheelbarrow loads, the pants come off to and he is working in his boxers and bare feet. I can't remember when I kicked my own shoes off, but my feet enjoy touching the packed earth beneath me. When we get to the last box I ask, "Stop for lunch, or push through?"

Without realizing what he is doing, he leans his mostly naked body against the vastly depleted soil mound. He looks down at the deep brown dirt falling over him and mixing with his thick black leg hairs. "I—was going to say push through, but I might be tired."

I look at my dirty and blistering hands. Thankfully, Jacks are a little less raw. He already has callouses on his hands in all the right places. Thick enough to be useful, but flat enough to feel seem smooth. Not baby smooth, but smooth like good quality leather. Tough and pleasant to the touch.

"Ugh.. yeah," I agree. "Let's take a break and get those sandwiches."

"Sounds good." Jack says nodding. He shifts from the dirt mound to sit on a fallen moss covered log on the forest floor. He lays down his back along the length of the log.

I walk toward the sliding glass door into our house, the house I still cannot believe we own! I catch a reminder that my hands, and my feet, and my whole body, is covered the black loam blended soil. "Jack?" I say staring blankly at my reflection. When I hear his grunt I continue. "I'm gonna need your help."

"Grrr." He says in a pretend growl.

"I need you to spray me off with a hose so I can get into the house." I explain.

He sits up and smiles at me with his mouth closed and his eyes squinting slightly. "Oh really?"

He stands up and walks towards me, pausing only to pick up his discarded clothes. "I might could do that."

"What kind of grammar is that?" I ask. I begin unraveling the hose.

"Summat for a country boy, rather than a construction worker," he says, pretending to have a drawl.

"God, stop." I say tugging the hose out more. "Country boy does not mean a southerner in this state." I hear the hose start while I'm still holding the end. I quickly change my grip so that I can point at him, placing my thumb over the end to spray further.

"Please," he says simply walking away from the building. After a bunch of hot air flows through first water sprays around my thumb arching through the air and landing on his beautiful body. He laughs as it hits him then steps out of the spray trying to brush the dirt, now mud off his body. "That's cold."

I redirect to spray him again, this time aiming at his blue and white patterned boxers that I bought him. He jumps away from the water, then rushes at me. "Why I oughta!" He yells quoting some old mobster cartoon. He pulls the hose out of my hand.

"Eep!" I jump and run away, but the thumb pressurized spray collides with my body. It quickly soaks through my t-shirt and causes the my legs to ripple with muddy steams washing down my body. I bite my lip and force myself to stand still so he can actually get me clean. I step back onto the porch avoiding the massive puddles of mud we have made. Jack returns the hose to finish cleaning himself off. I look at his dripping wet boxers and mine.

"Ahh, what the hell." I drag the clinging t-shirt over my head revealing a simple white sports bra from Victoria Secret. My jean shorts are a little harder to pull off wet. When I manage to pull them off, Jack admires my blue-black patterned bikini cut panties, also from Victoria Secret. I love the way they cup my ass. They are the only clothing I am wearing right now that is not completely soaked through.

"Mmm," Jack says with a smile. He almost redirects the hose, to rectify my one dry spot, but I open the screen door. I am able to slip in a moment before the hose sprays over the glass.

"You almost got the carpet." I yell through the door.