Now, given my unique skin -- which Xavier refers to as "challenging," whereas I think of it as "a pain in the ass" -- Logan and I are used to creativity in the bedroom.

Really, though, I have to draw the line somewhere.

It all started innocently enough. Or, as innocent as things can be when Logan comes back from a mission to find me naked in his bathtub, candlelight flickering patterns across the walls. I opened one eye to see him peering lasciviously around the door.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Takin' a bath," I told him, lazily trailing my fingers through the bubbles. "Wanna help?"

He grinned wolfishly, already starting to peel off his uniform. "I'll be there in a minute."

I closed my eyes and settled down into the bubbles, listening as he rifled through the drawers in our bedroom. No doubt he was looking for a scarf that could survive a bubblebath.

When he came back, however, I noticed that he wasn't holding one of my nice gauzy scarves in his hands.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, all relaxing thoughts of scarves and bubbles gone. He was standing at the door, naked, holding some poofy little pastel thing in his hands.

"Lady at the store said it's called a 'spaglove.'" He looked uncertainly at the pale green glove, shrugged, and pulled it on. Unfortunately, Logan's hands are far from dainty, and the glove only reached about two inches above his wrist.

"Hunh," he said, turning his hand over and tugging on the glove. "I don't think I got the right size."

I stifled a giggle. "I don't think they make them in your size. Why did you get that?"

He stopped his examination of the glove and turned his gaze my way, a decidedly suggestive glint in his eye. "I thought I could use it to wash your back."

Well, it was still weird, but I decided to go with it.

I sat up slowly, letting the bubbles slide down my body and giving Logan my best inviting smile. It worked pretty well, too, since he was kneeling next to the tub before I had a chance to tell him to hurry it up. I twisted my damp ponytail into a knot so it would be out of the way and leaned forward so he had easy access to my bare back.

I heard him dip his hand in the water, getting the spaglove wet. He reached over me, carefully avoiding all my bare skin so that he could grab the bar of soap. He worked up a nice lather and then started rubbing my back in soft circles, starting at my shoulders and working his way down my spine. When he reached my lower back he moved his hand carefully over my hip, drifting over toward the front of my body...

At which point I bolted upright, almost knocking our heads together, inching away from Logan and his spaglove.

"What are you doing?"

He was looking at me like I'd lost my mind, but, really, who was the one who bought the spaglove in the first place?

"I thought I'd do a little more than just wash your back."

"Not with that you won't!" I yelp, pointing accusingly at the damn spaglove.

"C'mon, Marie," he says, waggling his gloved fingers at me. "It's green and fluffy."

"No," I insist. "Absolutely not. It will *chafe.*"

He stops the finger-waggling and examines the glove.

"But it's supposed to be good for washing," he frowns. "And lather! It works up a nice lather."

I sigh, because he really does look disappointed that I haven't enjoyed his gift. "It's better for exfoilating-- and there are certain parts of my body that I don't want to exfoliate."

"I think it will work just fine," he says stubbornly.

I reach over and take his hand, smiling as I tug on the fingers and pull off the glove. "Okay. If you really think so, we'll just try it on *your* sensitive parts."

The words are barely out of my mouth before he's jumped backwards, pulling a towel off the rack to shield himself from me.

I can't stop giggling at the look of horror on his face. "Very manly, Logan."

"I changed my mind. I think you may be right."

"I know," I smirk. "Not so innocent and green and fluffy when it's headed your way, is it?"

I pull the spaglove off and lob it at his head, standing slowly and letting the bubbles glide down my body as I step out of the tub and take the towel away from him. "C'mon, sugar. Let's go put another glove to use."

"Not the spaglove, though, right?" he asks, wary.

"No," I grin. "Leather is much more fun."

THE END.