Water rushes from the faucet, filling her ears with the sound of its trickle. She could hear it running from down the hallway like an indoor rain. Approaching the door, the sweet scent of soap, shampoo, and shaving cream fills her nose.  Steam has escaped from under the doorway, carrying the aroma with it: the scent of a shower. 

Fragrances beckon her, enticing with promises of relaxation and pleasure. The running water calls like a siren, offering the same bliss someone else has enjoyed.  She waits for the occupier to leave, to yield to the irresistible urge. 

She turns the water on full blast and steam begins to envelope the room again, like a fog blankets a jungle.  Stepping in the warm water puddled in the shower before it drains, she leans into the water pouring above her head: her own summer rain.

Soaking her hair and warming her face, she exhales and releases all of her tensions with one breath.  Reaching for the shampoo, she squeezes the bottle and rubs the sugar-plum scented oil between her hands just as a masseuse would prep herself. Proceeding to massage her scalp, she mats her silky hair with the heavenly aroma that had coaxed her from down the hall.  Sweet plum enwraps her with pleasure.

As her long strands become foamy and white, she piles it all on top of her head. An almond-smelling bar suds up her sponge, much like a candy children would find in supermarkets.  The buttery, nutty fragrance pushes all other thoughts from her head; the only sense left is scent itself. 

Leaning back, her hair slips down her neck; water and soap stream down her back and slide to the floor.  Feeling squeaky and no longer slippery, she watches the remains of the white bubbles swirl down the drain like a miniature whirlpool.  The water is turned off, like a slow stopping drizzle.  But, the scent still lingers in the air.