[WARNING: Mild Sexual Content]
Atticus decided to make himself think of the least arousing things possible. Like his grandparents procreating. Or eating dirt with a spoon. Or Eugene Attonson. That last thought certainly deflated him quickly enough, replacing his arousal with anger and disgust.
"We should wash now," Daphne said.
They had simply sat in silence together for the past few minutes, and the water would soon be cold. Her husband had a vacant look in his eyes as if he was a thousand miles away.
Now he looked angry.
"We have to wash up eventually," Daphne added, trying to convince him as though he was a naughty child avoiding a bath. With that look in his eyes, she thought that he was showing his displeasure at scrubbing clean― or turning around so that he no longer had the front seat to look at Daphne's breasts. "Do you want me to help you wash?"