“I’m not trying to upset you, Serena. And you know I get it. You know I understand, so you understand that I’m asking because it’s important. Yeah, you have a right to feel the way you do but it’s like what I said to you, on the Pier—it’ll eat you alive. It’ll destroy you. Life is too short for that.”

He reached across the table and covered a hand with his, mindlessly rubbing the skin there with the callous on his thumb.  “I just see things that someone should have helped you through a long time ago. You shouldn’t have to still deal with this—you shouldn’t even have to still deal with her. She’s an adult, right? How can you move on from things that happened when you were a kid if you can’t get away from her?”

I picked at my teeth with my tongue, staring at the faux wood grain in the table, trying to form the words I wanted to say, in my mind.  I breathed in, and out, and then lifted my eyes. He sat across the table from me, an intensely sincere, concerned expression on his face, more ‘normal’ at that moment than I’d ever seen him. He didn’t deserve my anger and venom—he wasn’t the one who did this. He was just trying to understand.

I spoke slowly, reliving the memories. “There was a point in time, when she was very sick. And no one was there, for her. And no one came to see her, for three days, and when she finally gave my name, and I showed up at the hospital, and she was laying there, all frail and bony and sick, and strung out…”

I shrugged and sighed, staring out the window next to me. “I just felt like it was something I should do. Like she needed someone to be there for her,” I said, looking back at him, his eyes fixed on me, leaning on one arm, the other still stretched across the table, his hand still on mine. I rather liked it, there.

“I can’t say it brings me any joy, but it’s better than wondering what the hell is going on, or having her get picked up, or worse, keel over somewhere and be dead for days and no one knows where she is or what happened. I’m her Power of Attorney. I talk to her doctors, her psychiatrists, her treatment counselors. She’s not capable of making these decisions, taking care of herself, JC. I’m all she has, and yeah, I know this is why my issues fester and this is why I’m still angry. I haven’t dealt with it, but I’m not convinced that therapy is the answer for everything that’s fucked up. Sometimes, things are just fucked up and you deal. I can’t just check out. I never had that option.”

He squeezed my hand, under his. “I get where you’re coming from. What you’re saying. I do. I just, you know, I just think you need to be a whole person in order to give so much of yourself to her. You’re a good person to try to do what you do for her. I can’t say I’d do the same, if it were me. I mean, I help her, when she’ll let me, but for a number of years I kept my distance because I couldn’t handle her and handle me. You know?”

I nodded, enjoying the feeling of his hand on mine. “More than you know, I know.”

He breathed in, his chest swelling, then blew out a breath and tapped my hand. “Enough of that. What do you want to do? You want to go out? You want to watch a movie, or something?”

I was relieved to have that conversation over. As much as I was touched (and let’s be honest, my crush reached impossibly high new levels over it) that he cared, my adoption was a sensitive subject and I didn’t want to regret opening up to him. The whole ordeal wiped me out, and my late hours the previous night started to catch up with me.

“I’m kind of beat,” I said, playing with my hair, twisting a strand around a finger. “I might see what’s on Pay per View, and hang out here.”

He cleared the table, setting the dishes on the tray outside the door. I piled the pillows up against the headboard and climbed up on the bed. He dove, headfirst, landing next to me with a bounce, then rolled over, grabbing a pillow and rolling it to fit under his head. I flipped through the order screen, finally settling on a comedy neither of us had seen.

“You know…you don’t have to hang out here, JC. I’m totally not expecting you to. I appreciate you being nice to me, and all, but I’m sure you have a fabulous life to get back to. You really don’t have to stay, if you want to go.”

“Do me a favor, Serena?” He propped up on an elbow and angled his head up so he could see me.

“What?”

He shook his head, very slightly. “Forget who I am. Forget my fabulous life and all that stuff. I’m just me. I sit at home and watch movies, just like you do, just like your friends do. This isn’t unusual for me. I’m not sacrificing anything to hang out with you. I’m having fun. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, then slouched down next to him against the pillows, crossed one ankle over the other and watched the opening credits roll.

The movie was humorous enough to make me laugh but not interesting enough to distract me from him laying next to me laughing, breathing, being. Smelling good. Looking good. He could be doing anything, but he chose to stay and do something simple, like watch a movie with me in my hotel room, instead of going out on the town or just going home. That had to count for something. I hoped it counted for something.

Halfway through the movie, JC relaxed, rolling to his side, sidling up to me and laying his head on my shoulder. I glanced down at the top of his head but other than that made no mention of it. A few minutes later, an arm hung over my midsection. It was meant to be casual, but it was slow and exacting, sliding across my belly and curling around my waist. I rescued an arm out from under him and rested it across his back. He snuggled closer to me, tightening his arm around me and laying a leg between mine.

In the back of my mind, I knew it was coming, it was almost cliché that it would, but there was not any chance I was fighting it. I didn’t care what kind of stereotype I would fulfill—at the moment he wasn’t a celebrity laying in my bed, but someone that, if I’d met the day before and had spent an incredible two days with, I’d still like. And still want to be with. I didn’t need any further justification than that. I laid there, heart racing, and waited for him to make a definitive move. He could have just been getting comfortable, but I wanted him to want to be with me.

I had no idea what was happening in the movie. I’d stopped watching it soon after he laid his head on me. I was preoccupied with smell of him, the weight of him on half of my body, my arm around his shoulders, my hand rubbing his back, his hand on my waist, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth against the sheer, silky fabric of my dress. I could feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart through the thin material. It felt like heaven.

JC tipped his head up, stretched and reached and his lips just barely made contact with my chin. I started to smile, and turned my head toward him, meeting his lips, brushing against them. Encouraged, he moved himself further up on the bed, propping himself on one arm. He tucked a hand behind my neck, under my head and softly pressed his lips to mine. My eyes slid shut and I savored the feeling of a wet, pointy tongue running along my bottom lip. My mouth opened, slightly, and his tongue teased and played with mine, so slowly and softly it was hypnotic. My arms found their way around his neck, and I finally got to run my hands through his thick head of soft, silky hair. We laid there together for what felt like mere minutes but when I opened my eyes again, the closing credits were rolling.

He pulled back, eventually, tipping his head to the left and raining wet, noisy kisses down my cheek to my neck, where his tongue made another appearance and licked a hot trail down to my shoulder.

I let out the breath I had been holding. I hadn’t realized I wasn’t breathing. His lips and tongue on my neck were doing amazing things to my toes and the small of my back. I almost couldn’t stand the feeling, my senses heightened and being driven higher. I shuddered, the sensation just too much to handle. He stopped and pulled back, softly brushing his lips against mine, again.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, mid-kiss. “Do you want me to stop? I will, if you want me to,” he whispered, then kissed me again. He wasn’t giving me much of a choice.

“If you stop, I will be furious with you,” I breathed, smiling, limp.

He smiled against my lips. “I can see I should have never said that, as you’re not going to stop repeating it.”

“I’m funny, that way.” 

He adjusted so he was almost fully on top of me, his lips landing on mine, licking, gentle biting, soft moaning. It was the most erotic sound I had ever heard. I opened my eyes for a brief moment and watched him kiss me, his eyes clamped shut, lush, full lashes in a layer against his cheek, his face full of pleasure. One of my legs curled around his and I clung to him. I felt a hand slowly caressing my outer thigh, making its way upward, under my dress. I wasn’t protesting in the least. I hadn’t had hands on me in a long time and his felt incredible. He’d started something and he wasn’t getting out of that room until it was finished.

Wet, warm, firm lips found my neck, again, and kissed their way down to my shoulder and across my chest. His tongue dragged a wet, fiery path between both breasts, and then he kissed the swell of one, and then the other, making his way to ultra sensitive nipples straining against the lace in my bra. By the time he closed his mouth over one, flicking it with his tongue through the fabric, I was out of my mind, gasping and moaning, sighing, shaking, writhing beneath him but stuck because he was basically holding me down. He flicked one nipple and then the other, laughing as he licked and I squealed.

“You’re fun to play with,” he said, taking the other nipple in his mouth, biting at it, ever-so-softly.

“Fuck, JC. This feels so good. I haven’t… God, it’s been forever.”

“Happy I could help, then.” Soft lips found mine again and I welcomed a deep, passionate, fiery kiss, the kind you read about in smut novels, except this was really happing. It could have gone on forever, but eventually we would need to breathe.

“Serena.” I loved how he said my name. I felt it more than I heard it, since he was mumbling against skin, licking like it was coated with sugar. He swallowed, and drew in a stuttered breath, tried to rein himself in a little.

“I want to--God, I want to-- but we don’t have to if you don’t. I’ll stop, right now if you don’t want to. But you have to tell me what you want. Whatever you say, that’s what I’ll do, and whatever you want, I’ll do it.” I could tell what he wanted, very plainly, and very thick, pressing into my belly. I wanted him, and I wasn’t even slightly ashamed to say that I had no qualms about sleeping with him.

“I’ll take whatever,” I said, giggling. Giddy.

His lips left my skin as he raised his head. “Seriously.” 

I reached up and smoothed his hair down. “I’m being serious,” I said. “I want this. I want you. I’m not going to change my mind. Do you have condoms on you?”

A look crossed his face, then. His head dropped heavily on my shoulder and he groaned. “Shit. I thought men kept condoms in their wallet? What happened?”

He lifted his head and gave me a look. “I didn’t think—I mean, I didn’t come here, come up here to--“ He punched a fist into the mattress, muttering. “Fuck.”

“I’d like to, if we can find a condom or two. Hang on, I might actually have some,” I said, sitting up, and yanking my dress down. No sense in decorum, I was about to be naked. I kicked the dress off of my feet and bent over to my open suitcase in the closet, digging out my toiletry bag and unzipping a side pocket.

I laughed and shook my head. Melissa, thinking she was funny, always snuck condoms and lube into my toiletry bag whenever I went anywhere. ‘You never know, you might need them,’ she always said, and was always disappointed when I came home with as many condoms as I left with. ‘You should really be happy that I’m not coming home with NO condoms,’ I would tell her, handing them back to her. We’d see if I made it home with any, this time.

I tossed the stack to him, the small packages raining onto the bed. He appeared to be relieved as he laughed and sat up. “Okay. For someone who has no boyfriend, you drag around a lot of condoms and lube,” he said counting the small packages. “Seven. Ambitious aren’t we?”  He tipped his head to the side and smirked, looking hot as hell. I was definitely doing this.

“No boyfriend is the perfect reason to have condoms and lube. These are courtesy of my friends. They think they’re funny. It’s actually paying off, this trip. Shut up and take off your jeans,” I said, tossing the toiletry bag back into my suitcase.

“I guess I’m getting payback for being such a control freak,” he said, unzipping his jeans and removing them, along with the grey briefs he had on under them. He removed his t-shirt and tossed it onto the pile and suddenly I had a naked man laying on my bed. In LA. I loved Los Angeles!

I reached behind me and unsnapped my bra, tossing it into the chair. My panties followed, and then I made him get up and inside the cool sheets as I folded the blanket back.

I reached for one of the foil packets as I climbed in behind him. “Can I put it on?”

“Sure.” He handed me the wrapper and laid back, getting comfortable, holding himself up for me. I held the packet in one hand and then a sly grin slowly crawled across my lips. I had one thing I wanted to do before he would be tainted with the taste of rubber.

As I dipped my head toward him, a wide grin spread across his face. He let out a deep breath as I lightly grasped him, flicking his hand away. I dragged my tongue up and down, periodically circling, very gently teasing him, playing with him. I raised my eyes to him and found him watching, mouth open, propped up on both elbows. I opened my mouth and took him in, applying very light suction. He gasped and his eyes opened wide. I moaned and watched him, moving faster, taking in more of him. He whimpered and his hips began to thrust. A hand moved to my head and fingers curled up into my hair. Except for a few mutterings of “Yeah, that’s good”, and “Oh my God”, he was quiet, preferring to show his pleasure through a smile, an occasional laugh and staggered breathing.

His breath caught in his throat and a deep crimson color began to surface on his skin. He had all the telltale signs of an impending climax and I wanted to take him there. He grunted, then shuddered and without much more warning, he groaned that he was coming, and I had just enough time to suck him to the back of my throat before he pulsed. His chest heaved with deep breaths, a thin film of sweat covered his body and he was mostly pink—the crimson was fading. I pulled off and lifted my eyes to his face, which looked so peaceful I couldn’t help but smile. His eyes were closed, his thick, dark lashes laying against pale skin, his mouth open, arms spread out across the bed.

I slowly crawled up his body, laying light kisses all the way up his belly, his chest, his neck, until I was hovering over him. I felt his hands at my waist and he opened his eyes, staring right into mine. I grinned down at him, not sure if he wanted me to kiss him. His hands slid up my side to my head and pulled me down to him, our lips meshing together in a sweaty, breathless kiss, his tongue swirling over and under mine. My lips tingled, chapped and red and swollen when I pulled back. I didn’t mind at all.

“You were just supposed to put it on,” he mumbled, his arms falling back, grinning madly.

“Oh, I’m getting to it, bossy,” I teased. I sat back and ripped open the package, removing the thin film and applying it to him while he watched. “Check it,” I said, moving to sit next to him.

“It’s good,” he said after he checked my work, and rolled toward me.

“One thing, JC, before we start.” I looked down at him, making sure I had his attention. “This is totally the wrong time to bring this up, but I don’t want you to think I’m doing this because of who you are. Not that it changes anything about tonight, just… I don’t want to cheapen this by labeling it cliché and stereotypical. I really do like you and I really do want this and none of that has anything to do with who you are. So, tomorrow when you wake up, don’t high-five yourself because you fucked a fan. And if that’s what this is about, for you, then maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

He pulled me down next to him and leaned over me, his bright blue eyes staring into my bright grey ones. “Fan rule number two. I would have followed you up here last night if that’s all I was after. If you think anything about the last two days is because you’re a fan, then you don’t know me like you think you do. I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and high-five myself over you.” He stopped and thought better of his statement. “Well, actually, I might. But it won’t be because you’re a fan. Okay?”

Relieved, I let out a breath and fully relaxed, looking forward to what was about to happen. I stretched up to peck his lips and smiled. “Yes. So, are we doing this? That foot rub made me horny.”

He reached up and turned off the lamp next to the bed, laughing to himself. “Works every time.” The room was instantly dark, the only glow from the TV, which was flashing scenes from movie previews.

He rolled over, halfway onto me, sliding a hand up under my body and covered my mouth with his, his tongue hot and wet and probing. His other hand found an erect nipple and played with it, flicking it, pulling at it, teasing me. A response came from my hips underneath him. He moaned into my mouth and moved to lay completely on top of me. I shuddered uncontrollably and my hips rolled toward his. I reached around him, grasping a cheek in each hand and pulled him toward me, writhing against him. I could not get close enough to him. Closer. I wanted to be closer.

He diverted his kiss to begin a trail down my neck, across my shoulder, back up to my mouth and down the other side and then back over again, a cycle that drove me out of my mind, and he knew it. A hand snaked its way down my body, between my legs, fingers slowly crawling over me. My hips arched up at his touch and I begged him to keep going, not to stop. Two fingers found their mark and he rotated in small tight circles, applying light pressure.

“Yesssss,” I hissed. I melted into the mattress, the center of my universe being those two fingers. The kisses on my skin, the light bites on my neck were an added bonus. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. They grabbed aimlessly and clutched whatever they came in contact with—hair, skin, pillow.

“Does that feel good?” he breathed into my ear, his breath hot on my skin, but I shivered.

I was at his mercy. And it felt so good. “Oh my GOD, yes. So good. Please, I want it so bad.”

“Mmmm. Let me see what I can do about that.” In a flash, he was between my legs, licking, sucking my inner thigh, moving closer and closer and then before I knew it, he was there. Right there. My eyes slammed shut and I moaned, digging my fingers into his soft hair. I writhed and my hips rolled in rhythm as he sucked and licked and circled over and over and over again. I opened my eyes and tried to watch him, like he watched me. In the glow from the TV, I could see that he kept looking up to see my face, to see me move under his power. It seemed to fuel him, and knowing that he was enjoying it was fueling me.  I felt my climax building, starting in my toes and working its way up.

I gasped, sucking in a breath. “I’m gonna… oh GOD…OH! GOD! FUCK!”  My hips jerked, lifting my body up off of the bed. He didn’t miss a beat as my body convulsed and I twitched, grunting, trying not to scream. I finally felt the wave subside and I fell back, panting, trying to catch a breath. I had to stop him; I was so sensitive it almost hurt.

“You need to give lessons,” I panted, aftershocks still wracking my body. “Holy Shit. I’ve never had it like that before.”

I felt a chuckle against my inner thigh, soft lips licking, sucking, kissing the sensitive skin there. “Don’t get comfy, I’m not done yet, sweetheart.”

I laughed, more giddy than anything. “Holy… well then bring it on. You’re not tired, are you?”

An eyebrow lifted and I saw an evil grin in the little light available. “Uhm. You are going to sleep VERY well tonight.”

I growled. “God, you’re sexy. Fuck me, already.” My anticipation built as he made his way up my body, kissing every inch.

“You’re kind of… impatient,” he said, leaving a wet kiss on my belly and moving further up. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? I want you, on me. In me. NOW.”

My impatience had no effect on him. He slowly made his way up my body until we were face to face. He hovered over me, unmoving for a very long second before he lowered himself.

“You want me? Why didn’t you say so?”

He leaned on one arm, bending his head to touch his lips to mine, the other hand guiding him to me. In the next breath, I felt him push, felt him suck in a breath, felt his shoulders sag with relief.  I wrapped my legs around him and arched up toward him, my nipples scraping against his chest as my hips rolled in sync with him. I already felt my eyes rolling to the back of my head and wrapped my arms around him tighter. As he moved inside me, small, tight thrusts, I moaned quietly in his ear. He moaned in chorus, his movements growing deeper and harder as my body adjusted to him.

There was nothing more erotic to me than the sound of sex. I loved the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sounds of passion and desire and pure pleasure rising into the air. The very thought of sex turned me on -- being a part of it, with him, was driving me out of my mind. So were the hard, pounding thrusts, pushing me closer to another climax. He grunted, timing his breaths with the rhythm of his hips. He felt so good inside me, his weight on me, the muscles in his back spasming and twitching with every move. He dipped his head to my shoulder, his rapid breath in my ear, on my skin. He just felt good, comfortable, right. I didn’t want him to ever stop.

He slowed his pace to a slow, sensuous, circular thrust, my hips slowing to match him. He laid down on me, every inch of our bodies from the chest down touching, and looked me in the eye, smoothing my hair away from my face, gazing down on me.

“I want to watch you come,” he whispered.

“Only if you come with me,” I whispered.

“It’s a deal, baby,” he whispered, and then leaned down to capture my lips in a kiss, long and slow and luxurious, like he hadn’t a care in the world. When he pulled back, he grasped a thigh and rolled to his side. Without him even pulling out, I was straddling him.

I sat on top of him and didn’t move, for a moment. I stared down at him, into his face as he stared up at me, my long brown hair framing my face, lips swollen and red from kissing, face sweaty and red from exertion, nipples erect. I leaned forward and clasped my right hand in his and then my left hand in his and began to slowly ride him. His hips thrust him deeper inside me and I sighed, my bottom lip caught between my teeth.

“Look at me. I want see you. I want to come with you,” he said, almost pleading. I lifted my eyes to his and I laughed at trying to keep mine open—they wanted to slide closed and just enjoy the sensation, the feeling of sex. I began to rock against him faster and with more force. He matched his thrusts to mine and groaned, his breaths coming in hard gusts in time to the rhythm. I worked my hips, feeling him thrust himself further inside me, creating that slap of skin against skin. He was shaking, a sign that he was close, I took it.

I wanted to see him at the height of passion, again. I wanted to take him there, again, just to know that I did it, that I could do it for him. “I want you to come for me,” I panted. “Are you close? Come on, sweet man. Give it to me. Come to me.”

He gripped my hips, moving them faster, harder against him. Eventually, he groaned and rolled us over, and I wrapped my legs around him as he re-established his rhythm, eyes open and fixed on me.

“I’m waiting for you,” he whispered, drawing in a ragged breath. “Come for me. Please.”

I let go, then, gripping his shoulder so hard my nails dug into him as the most incredible, unexplainable, fantastic wave washed over me, and kept washing, kept crashing, swelling higher and higher until I was either going to pass out, or cry. Or both. The sight, sensation and sheer force of my climax sent him over the edge. He grunted and pushed hard, over and over and over, until he could thrust no more, then collapsed on top of me, his breaths coming in short gasps, dripping sweat.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, very softly, on his cherry red lips, chapped from ravaging my lips, my skin, biting them, licking them, hot breath baking them. The sheets were damp with sweat and he was practically sliding off of me but I didn’t want to move an inch. Ever. He moved his head only slightly to kiss whatever skin he could come into contact with, his hands ran down my thighs, hooked behind my knees and wrapped my legs back around him. He was heaving like he’d run a mile, his chest rising and falling on mine until his breathing slowed to normal. I thought he might fall asleep on top of me, which wouldn’t be all that bad but I had an issue to take care of.

“JC. I don’t really want to but I need to get up.” I patted him on the back, making a funny, flat sound, his skin still moist from sweat. His hands slid to his side and he pushed himself up, on his knees.

“Go, this is as far as I’m moving, honey,” he said with a laugh. I slid out from under him and he collapsed back onto the bed. In the bathroom I snapped on the light and was instantly happy that he couldn’t really see me. My eye makeup had run, my hair resembled something from Greek Mythology and I looked like I’d been rode hard and put away wet. And enjoyed it. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair and snapped off the light, returning to the bed, where he was laying in the same position.

“So I guess you’re sleeping in the middle?” I reached over and softly smacked his backside. A hand reached up and grabbed my wrist and I squealed, giggling. He rolled to his side and pulled me onto the bed by my wrist, laying me next to him and gathering the sheets and blanket around us. He laid down, half on, half off of me, his head laying on my chest, my arm around his shoulder and one hand playing in his hair.

We laid like that for awhile. I liked the feeling. I thought he was going to sleep but I could feel him blinking. I lightly scratched at his scalp. “You okay down there?” I asked quietly.

He nodded. “You?’ he asked. 

I giggled. “What do you think?” I felt him smile against me and he tapped me twice on the thigh, then rubbed it. He lifted his head to my lips and gave me the sweetest kiss I think I’ve ever received from a man—it was so touching and light, not hungry and passionate. Beautiful, if a kiss could be described as such.

He pulled back, and didn’t move. Just stared. Then, the dreaded “I’m gonna go,” came. “Easier now than in the daylight.”

I nodded, sad to see him go but I understood why he had to. He sat up and crawled over me, rolling out of the bed and stumbling to the bathroom. I heard him moving around in there and then the light snap off and the door open.

I sat up, gathering the sheets around me and turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a soft glow. I saw him clearly for the first time in hours. Tired eyes, messy hair, the start of some stubble on his cheek and chin, but he was never more handsome to me than right then. No matter what happened past that night, I would not regret what happened between us. Not that I wasn’t hoping something happened again—it would be the last sex I’d have for another long while.

He sat heavily on the bed, gathering up the clothes he had tossed around while undressing. I watched him lazily pull clothes back on, check the room, make sure he had everything he came with. His keys jingled in his hand as he sat next to me, leaned over and kissed me, one hand supporting him on the bed, the other behind my neck, in my hair. His tongue stroked mine in a slow, heady pattern—he seemed to want the kiss to count, and it did. He pulled back, finally, and sighed, smiling.

“I kind of hate to go but I know I’ll regret it if I don’t. Not that—I mean, you know what I mean.” I nodded, and reached for his hand. “I know,” I said.

“So. You need some time to go over your meeting for Monday, right?” He tipped his head toward the work desk that I was neglecting.

I nodded, again. “A few hours. It’s ready but I want to go through it a few times. Obsess over it. Fix things that don’t need to be fixed, things like that.”

He smiled, and said, “I know the feeling. So, maybe you could just call me, later and we could do something. Not too late, so you can still be ready for your meeting, but if I’m not being too selfish I’d still like to see you.”

I tilted my head to the side and gave him a look. If anything, I had plans of being very selfish, if I had the chance to see him again. “I’d like to see you, too. I’ll call you. Probably around six or so?”  He nodded, but didn’t move, staring out the window.

“You haven’t even left yet but uhm…so, when are you coming back?” He rolled his head toward me, laughing.

“If we get this account, I’ll be spending a lot of time out here,” I answered, rubbing the skin on the back of his hand with my thumb, as he’d done for me.

“Well then I’m rooting for you like never before, honey.” He leaned over and gave me a quick, dry peck and stood, stretching. “I better go, before I end up not leaving. I think I can lock your door from the inside. Sleep well, work hard, and call me. Whatever you want to do, I’m game. Okay?”

“Okay. Drive safe,” I called as he rounded the corner to the door.

“Thanks. I’ll text you when I get home.” The door opened, and then closed, and I heard him test the door knob, and then a few minutes later I heard the ding of the elevator arriving.

I laid back, staring at the ceiling, in complete disbelief of the last two days, not letting myself think past them. I couldn’t let thoughts of ‘what about tomorrow, and the next day, and when you go home’ cloud my thoughts. I really just wanted to enjoy the experience. Remember it. Revel in it. Celebrate it. And dream about it.  I turned off the lamp next to the bed, turned off the TV and laid there, smiling into the dark.

Sometime later, my phone buzzed and lit up, on the side table. I picked it up and checked the message.

‘You are amazing. I think I’m hooked. Will be waiting for your call. Have a good night. C’