Cronk’s Bath

May 15, 1889
10:00 AM

While others had an appointment with the Baron, Cronk returned to his quarters after breakfast. He was glad not to be meeting with the Baron. He truly disliked the man. However, if the Baron were to hurt or insult anyone on the team, Cronk would make an unscheduled and unannounced visit to the Baron.

Cronk stretched, looking for his usual bottle and cigars left by Camille. She usually left these on the table next to the huge chair. They were not there this morning. Was Camille feeling under the weather? This concerned Cronk, as he was growing quite fond of Cam. He sighed.

Hearing a clink from his private bathroom, specially fitted for someone his size, Cronk investigated. There, he spied Camille, just pouring two glasses of bourbon, which now sat on a stool next to his tub, which was filled with steaming hot bath water. She had poured the water over soap powder, creating a thick layer of soap foam upon the surface. Next to the bourbon was a couple of cigars.

Camille sweetly addressed Cronk, “Your bath is ready, Monsieur,” giving him a smile and a curtsy.

Cronk looks from the bourbon to Camille and grinned. “Heh-heh-heh!” he managed to chuckle.

Camille walked into the bedroom as Cronk disrobed and entered the bath. He sank into the foamy water up to his neck, letting out a sigh of relaxation.

Camille returned with a cup of shave powder, a brush, and a straight razor. Placing the items next to the bourbon, she mused, “Be careful not to grab the wrong cup.”

Cronk snickered. Nothing came between him and his drink, unless it was a woman or weapon in the right moment. Whiskey, women, and weapons! What a life!

Camille dampened a towel with hot water from the tub. She placed it around his face, allowing the dampness to soak into his skin for a few minutes. During this time, she dipped the brush onto the water and began to work the soap powder up into a lather. Camille removed the towel and lathered Cronk’s face, neck, and chin, softly caressing his cheeks as she did so. Cronk was totally relaxed and leaned back, resting his head against the edge of the tub.

“Now,” Camille softly spoke, “hold still.”

She began to stroke his neck and face with the razor, removing the stubble that had formed the past few days. Each stroke was smooth, stimulating nerve endings and sending chills down Cronk’s back. Camille had a way to soothe the beast within him. When she had finished, Camille gently wiped his face clean.

She picked up a cigar, placed it in his mouth, and lit it for him. She handed Cronk a glass and took one for herself. She clinked hers against his then both sipped from their respective glasses. Cronk more than sipped, as his glass was empty.

“You have clean clothes upon your bed,” Camille offered, gathering up the discarded ones.

As she began to depart, Cronk stuttered, remembering the words of Boss Lady concerning relationships. “W-W-wait!”

Camille turned her attention back to the orc. “What may I do for you, Cronk?”

“More there,” Cronk said, pointing to the bourbon.

Camille couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Of course,” she softly spoke, pouring Cronk a drink, before turning to leave.

“Cronk mean,” he continued, “Cam join?”

Camille grinned and did her best impersonation of Cronk’s mischievous chuckle. “Heh-heh-heh!”

Camille dropped Cronk’s clothing, laid her own aside, and soon joined Cronk inside the tub. She leaned back against his massive chest, musing,” I thought you would never ask!”