Picture a hot summer day, and an old country house long left to the ravages of time. Cat is out strolling through the long grass and happens upon the grand old home, sitting at the top of a sloping hill that overlooks the sea. It's cool inside, and quiet, and Cat can't resist taking refuge from the blazing sun. The wood floors creak beneath her feet, and the stairs moan from disuse as she makes her way to the second floor. A bathtub, the old clawfoot kind sits invitingly beneath a bright sash window. How can she resist? She fills a pail with water and lowers herself into the cool cocoon of the tub, luxuriating in how deliciously cold the ceramic feels against her hot skin. What a simple pleasure, gently washing the grit and grime of a summer's day from her body. She dips the sponge into the pail and squeezes drops of sudsy water onto herself, smoothing the lavender scented soap down her breasts, her thighs, her legs. She could stay here all day, listening to the wind rustle through the long grass outside. She closes her eyes and drifts away, until the sun sinks low in the sky and it's finally, sadly, time to go.