I lay beside him now, recounting every moment. How his energy felt inside me. How right we felt together, like what happened was meant to be. But now, I’m not so sure. I ease out of bed quietly, leaving him snoring peacefully there where just an hour ago he was so alive and free with me.
I never once let myself think about the morning after. Caught up in the rush of bodies connecting, the adrenaline coursing, no, I let it be a distant shore in my mind, another country that we may never reach.
My hair looks crazy, frizzy and worn from friction against the sheets. My lips swollen and flushed deep pink. I smile at myself in the mirror above the sink as I brush my teeth. You got what you wanted, I think to myself. But is it enough? In the shower, I revisit the places he has been, smoothing over tender flesh with the fragrant soap he bought for me.
I know I need to get out of here. He has things to do. I don’t want to seem clingy or that I have ideas about us, although I secretly do. My clothes are still neatly folded on the vanity where he placed them. Stepping into my panties I can’t help but wish I didn’t have to go. I dress reluctantly and return to gather my things.
“Hey, you…” He rolls over in the bed, smiling at me.
“You’re not leaving yet, are you? Let me order us some coffee and breakfast.”
He’s already on the phone.
I pick up the hairbrush and run it through my wet hair while collecting various articles of clothing scattered about the room. Locate my shoes, carelessly wedged under the sofa.
“I really should go,” I say, gazing out the window.
“Come here.” He gestures to the bed.
I step into my shoes, then sit down on the side of the mattress and he pulls me close, hugging me around the waist. I am silent, but I know he can sense my melancholy dread.
I forge his signature in a muddled scrawl on the room service check and hand the attendant a five, closing the door. He is in the shower. I walk over to the window and open the curtains. A new day. He’s right about the view. There’s a mist hanging over the city in the early hours of morning. The sunlight casts a blinding glare in my eyes. What now? It’s Sunday. I should be somewhere else. I should be anywhere else but here.
My stomach is gnawing. I nibble a piece of toast distractedly. When he is not in the room I don’t know what to do with myself. I wait here with my coffee and my blank silence for him to come out, to reanimate me.
“I wish we had more time,” he smiles at me between bites of oatmeal and fresh fruit. “But I need to be home by tonight and I still have a few loose ends to tie up on the closing this afternoon.”
“You finally sold the house,” I remember shreds of our conversation over drinks the day before. Something about a meeting. But it’s all so far away now.
“The market is right and the tenant’s lease was up, so, perfect timing–I guess you could say.”
“Yes, I would say the timing is perfect,” I smile knowingly.
“And what do you have planned for today, my darling?”
He extends his hand and I get up from the table to sit on his knee. With one arm wrapped around me, he forks a pineapple chunk and brings it to my mouth. The fruit is sweet and juicy on my tongue. He kisses me. In the heat of his desire, I taste a promise. And all the words unspoken don’t matter anymore.
“Randy’s birthday party is tonight, and I still need buy him a gift, but the mall doesn’t open until noon…”
“Hmmm…so, what are you going to do until then?” He kisses my neck softly.
“Mmmm, I really should get home.” I respond dreamily, leaning my head against his shoulder. But home is the last place I want to be. The idea of separation is agonizing. I want to belong to him. At least for a little while.
His eyes half-closed—an amused smile playing across his lips, he takes my face in his hands, gentle, but firm, kissing me again. Harder this time. Penetrating my mouth fully with his tongue– warm and now familiar–he explores my instinctual responses.
He pulls back, directing his gaze, searchingly into my eyes. His expression is dazed and lustful.
“Do you know what you do to me?” He poses it more as a statement than a question.
He pushes the chair back from the table as I stand up between his open knees, placing a hand on his shoulder for balance as I slip seamlessly out of my heels.