Her own personal ablutions took only a few short minutes; she was as practical in this as she was in everything else. She decided to leave her skirt on, as she knew how much Dean loved to hold on to it, that and handfuls of her long hair, whenever he worked her from behind. And damn, but just the memory of that particular little endeavor had her shuddering from crown to heel in a mix of blissful reminiscence and eager anticipation.

But she did peel off the useless panties, kicking them aside almost disdainfully. The heels she kept, since being a good head shorter than her lover was, at times, cumbersome. So after cleaning up a bit, tousling her hair back into artful disarray, she leaned against the counter, gazing at her reflection in the large mirror, and was nonchalantly reapplying her lipstick when Dean appeared in the doorway, skirt hitched just high enough to reveal the curve of her ass, thighs parted just enough to tease.

Green eyes met his in the mirror, and she smirked, capping the small tube. "Always, baby," she tossed back over her shoulder, along with two long red curls. Natasha licked her lips as she let her eyes wander, taking in every defined inch of that thick, toned body, loving how lost she always became in it. One eyebrow arched lightly.

"You know, sometimes it's not even fair, how gorgeous you are, Dean Winchester." Red lips curved in a contrived pout. "Makes a poor girl forget herself every now and then."