When she came in from the water we went inside. Opening the linen closet, she got a towel, wrapped it around her waist, and asked me if I’d like another blanket. I said I would, thank you.

Handing me the pile of linens we walked over to the couch. She wished me a goodnight, smiled, and turned toward the bedroom. Towel around her waist, shoulders bare, thin black straps holding her top in place, she closed the door behind her with a gentle click of the latch.

I laid out my blankets on the couch. I took off my shirt and got under the top sheet. Stared at the ceiling, took a deep breath. When the shower turned on, I imagined walking into the steam-filled bathroom, opening the curtain and joining her from behind, the warm water cascading over our bodies, hers against mine, hands exploring the curves of her hips.

I took another deep breath.

The shower squeaked off.

As the night sky outside gave way to darkness, moonlight reflecting off the gulf blanketed the living room in a silvery cloak. Under her door, however, shone the thin warm line of a reading lamp, a comforting beacon amidst the greying landscape. Drawn to its glow, I got up and approached the door.

Cracking it open, I looked inside and called her name. She was under the covers and gave me a welcoming smile, so I went to her. Standing at the edge of the bed, I undressed, got under the blankets. She was topless and warm. We kissed, her shoulders smooth against my dry hands, breasts soft against my tongue.

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