“I'm just gonna not do that." -Ryan Drake –––––––– The sticky, sweet smell of Douglas fir sap was so thick on Ryan's skin that even after scrubbing himself pink in a scalding hot tub, he still felt like the inside of a syrup bottle. A real one, not the kind in the shape of a woman with giant hips that you squeezed to get the weird, high fructose pancake topping product out the top of her bonnet-covered head.
The sap dueled with the heavy, violently relaxing scent of the lavender and patchouli b...ubble bath into which Ryan had sunk almost an hour before. He slid down under the water and then came up, shaking his head, flinging water all over the bathroom that was tiled almost exactly like a YMCA built in 1972, and grabbed the almost-empty bottle off the floor.
Squeezing the final contents into his tub, he stuck his foot out of the water, and turned the knob with his hairy-knuckled toes. As another pillow of bubbles rose around him, the big bear heaved a sigh of relief, and smiled, drawing a lung full of tantalizing fragrance.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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