Three Inches of Water
© 2001

Everyone was leaving. The shoot for the day was over. I was heading 
towards the door of the soundstage following everyone out when a tan 
hand grabbed my wrist. The arm pulled me near a body, a warm body. I 
was pulled behind a large costume trunk and came face to face with deep 
chocolate eyes. The man was in a white tee shirt and red pants. 
Everything on him was damp, including his long brown hair that he had 
pulled out of the ponytail at the base of his neck. As his hair was 
starting to dry it was starting to curl ever so slightly. The man put 
his index finger in front of his lips and whispered, "Shhh." I followed 
his instructions, covering my mouth with my hand. We listened as the 
director and other assistants walked out the door. The last person out 
was the security guard who shut the lights off and closed the door, 
locking it behind him. We waited several more moments before I finally 
opened my mouth to say something.

"Now what? We're locked in," I told the Latino man.

"Nothing to worry about, mi amor," he said to me with a slight smile. 
"This is just what I wanted."

"And when were you going to tell me?" I protested, sitting down cross-
legged on the cold concrete floor.

"When was I supposed to tell you?" he inquired, kneeling down beside 
me. "You were always busy."

I smiled. "I guess when you're in charge of costuming..." I started to 
say, but he stopped me with a look. "You know how much I like to help 
dress you," I told him slyly.

"And I enjoy you dressing me," he replied, leaning in and kissing me 
gently.

I looked at him. My gaze fell over his wet body and clothing. "I'm glad 
the pool scene's over with. But why are you still wearing those 
clothes? You'll catch your death." He smiled that smile that always 
made me melt inside and then stood up. He walked away from me. Several 
feet from me he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Shooting me a 
sly grin, I scrambled to my feet and followed him. He led me to the 
fourteen foot diameter blue plastic wading pool. The bottom looked 
tiled and there was about three inches of water still in it. The man 
with me and his four friends had used this pool for part of the video 
they were doing. The video was for one of my favorite songs, "All I 
Have to Give," though I could see no reason for the pool except for wet 
men. Although, after today and the pool scene, if I heard "All I Have 
to Give" one more time it would be too soon. And I knew I had tomorrow 
to go through. The Latino man I was with was Howie Dorough, one of the 
five Backstreet Boys. I couldn't believe my luck. I'd met him by 
accident and we quickly became a couple. He wanted me with him 
everywhere he went, on tour, on video shoots, at award shows, anywhere. 
My problem with that was that I wanted something to do. I didn't want 
to be a groupie. So he persuaded the powers that be to let be in charge 
of costuming, being I had a keen fashion sense. This meant I got to 
help him get dressed and undressed.

From a few feet away, I saw him step into the blue pool. He was 
barefoot and didn't care if his clothes got any wetter. I walked over 
to the edge of the pool and stared at him. "Howie..." I started to nag 
him about his clothes again. He turned towards me and crossed his arms 
at the wrists in front of him. Grabbing the hem of his damp shirt, he 
pulled up, ripping the wet fabric from his olive skin. He tossed the 
shirt at me, and I caught it in midair. Setting it on the ground at my 
feet, I leaned down and untied my shoes. Using my heels, I slipped them 
off my feet. I bent over and peeled off my socks. I watched as Howie 
walked over to me and stood there in the cold water.

"I think I need help," he said with a smirk. I chucked as I leaned over 
and slowly undid the black belt around his waist. I then maneuvered the 
button out of the hole at the top of his pants. When I reached for the 
zipper, my hand grazed against something hard. I closed my eyes and 
with a smile on my face, I slowly unzipped his pants. Howie placed his 
hands on my shoulders as I pulled down the wet jean material. He lifted 
each leg in secession allowing me to slip the jeans off his muscular 
legs. I tossed the red pants on top of the white shirt and stood there 
staring at the nearly nude man before me. He was only an inch taller 
than I was, which was great in my eyes. I didn't have to stand on my 
toes to kiss him and he didn't have bend over. Other than our height, 
our curly hair was the only thing we had in common look-wise. Howie had 
the dark looks of his family, dark brown, almost black hair, deep brown 
eyes and olive skin. I, on the other hand, had natural bleach blonde 
hair, bright blue eyes and was as white as a ghost. And now, here he 
was standing in black boxer shorts and nothing else and I was there 
completely clothed.

I stared at him. I could see his erection, even in the darkness, hiding 
beneath his boxers. He ran a hand down my cheek and kissed me. "I'm so 
glad you're here," he said softly.

"Otherwise you would have caught a cold in those wet clothes," I joked.

"More than that," he said, "I'm glad you're here because you make me 
happy." He reached down and pulled my tee shirt over my head. I may 
have had a keen fashion sense when it came to the guys, but not myself. 
I always wore jeans and tee shirts. "Jennifer, you're beautiful, you 
know that, right?"

I smiled and shook my head at him. "Only in your eyes, Owied," I 
teased. He unhooked my bra and slid it off my shoulders. He quickly 
caught my right breast in his left hand and massaged it gently. Kissing 
my lips, he ran his right hand down my back. Before I knew what was 
going on, he had undone my jeans and slid them, along with my panties 
to my ankles. "Does someone want something?" I said lustfully.

"Sí," he replied in Spanish, as I stepped out of my jeans and into the 
pool. He quickly shed the remaining article of clothing on his body. I 
stood there, completely exposed to his view, knowing that I could never 
do a Playboy shoot and thanking the Lord above that there was no one 
else around. Slowly, he lowered me onto my back in the water and a 
thought crossed my mind.

"You do you know that you can drown in only two inches of water, don't 
you?" I said to him. My hair fanned out around me.

"Sí, mi amor, don't worry about it." His hand reached down to the 
tender folds between my legs. Slipping his fingers into me and feeling 
the wetness that I hadn't even realized had formed; he slowly massaged 
my walls. He moved his fingers out of my cavity and into the folds 
nearby. His index finger gently brushed against my clit, enticing a 
squeal from me. "Just wait, you'll be doing more of that," he said 
lustfully in my ear. I grinned as he slowly slid forward into my 
waiting core. He took his time sliding his hardened shaft into me.

"Is Howie gonna hit a high note for me?" I asked as he became fully 
sheathed in me.

"Hopefully you'll hit one too," he replied. He slowly started moving 
his hips away from me, sliding ever so gently out of my body. He was a 
little more than half way out of me before he thrust back in. His hands 
found mine, clasping them as he continued his slow torture of my 
insides. The water around us sloshed as I began to move with him. I let 
go of his hand and reached down scooping up a handful of water. I 
drizzled it over his back as he slammed himself in and out of me. "You 
look like an angel like that," he commented, slightly out of breath. I 
smiled as we continued our intimate dance. I wrapped my arms around his 
shoulders and brought my knees up tighter around his body begging him 
to fill me deeper than he was. He obliged as best he could, kissing my 
lips and then my neck. I felt the muscles in his back tense as my own 
breathing became labored. He forced himself into me several times, my 
own body working against his pace. My intent was soon realized as he 
continued on the path to the precipice we both longed to fall into. He 
knew he was close long before I realized it. He picked up his pace 
slamming into me; our bodies now wet with sweat as well as water. We 
both crossed that chasm into sweet bliss at the same instant, my walls 
contracting around him and he pumping his seed deep into my core.

As I came, I called into the night, "Dulce D! Oh my sweet Howie!"

Howie, in turn, hit one of his fabulous high notes. It was just a wail, 
but it was at about a high G if my memory served correct. He allowed 
both of us to experience the joy together before he slid out of me. 
Once he was disengaged from my body, he sat up on his knees and pulled 
me up to a sitting position. He cradled me in his arms for a while 
until we both started shaking because of the cold air on our bodies and 
not our collective orgasm. He looked at me and we both laughed at our 
shivering. I stood up from my spot in his lap and looked around for 
towels. Softly splashing over towards the edge of the pool, I saw two 
white rectangular sheets draped over a low hanging light. I reached for 
them and managed to get the corner of both of them in my hand. Pulling 
slightly, I got them in my hands and carried them back over to Howie. 
He picked one out of my arms and wrapped it around my shoulders. I did 
the same with the other towel. He took the ends and moved the towel 
back and forth over his back. He then tucked the towel around his waist 
and watched as I quickly dried off and wrapped my towel around my 
chest. We were standing there in the darkness, in nothing but towels, 
our hair dripping down onto our shoulders, when we heard the door to 
the sound stage open. Howie grabbed my hand and we moved out of the 
pool, ducking down to hide ourselves behind the lights and costuming 
trunks.

"Howard!" came a man's voice. It was Brian Littrell, one of Howie's 
band mates. He had just met the love his life a few days prior, we all 
knew. We could tell by the way he looked at her, the way he talked 
about her, and above all else, the way he was acting recently. "Come on 
out D! We all know you're in here," he said into the large room. His 
footsteps echoed on the concrete and I could tell he was getting closer 
to us. I glanced at Howie. He was trying so hard not to laugh as Brian 
walked ever closer to us. We moved in tandem around the costume trunk 
to avoid Brian's prying eyes. From our spot, we watched as he saw the 
pile of clothing lying near the edge of the pool. With a perplexed look 
on his face, he leaned over and picked up Howie's white tee shirt. 
"Okay, D, party's over. Olli olli oxen free!" I heard Brian sigh. 
"Alright, I'll leave, but you've got five minutes to come out or we're 
locking you in for the night!"

We looked at each other and smiled. Once Brian had left, we quickly 
moved over to our clothes and got dressed. Howie's clothes were drier 
now, and I fished out his shoes from a box. "You ready?" he asked.

"Are you ready?" I replied. "You're gonna have to hear it from them 
forever. Me, well, I'm just the hired help," I teased. He smiled that 
smile again and we joined hands, heading for the door.