on.
Four
His arm reached out, his subconscious yearning for the feel of her body next to his. Finding the other side of the bed cold, Chris started awake.
“Martie?” he called out.
He got no answer. She was gone.
Sitting up, he looked around and noted that the curtains were closed. Swinging his legs to his left, he dropped them over the side of the bed and leaned forward to grab the edge of one of the drapes to pull it aside. Based on the pink and purple hues in the sky, the sun was just coming up. Martie had arrived last night at about 6:30, the steaks ordered shortly thereafter. The food was brought up shortly after seven, and he had kissed her…
Chris didn’t know what time that was. He was too interested in tasting Martie to b other looking at a clock. But they’d probably only been eating for about twenty minutes, so the kissing had st arted at around 7:30 , and that had led to their making love .
When had he fallen asleep?
To hazard a guess, somewhere between 8:30 and 9 :00 , which meant he’d been out cold fo r the entire night . God knew he’d needed the rest, but having chosen the fire service for his profession, he’d taught himself to be a light sleeper—he needed to be able to wake and get moving at a moment’s notice in his line of work, and it disturbed him that Martie had been able to get out of bed and leave without his hearing a sound.
Of course, Chris wasn’t entirely sure what bothered him more—that he hadn’t heard her leave, or the fact that she’d left.
Feeling annoyed—whether at Martie or himself he couldn’t say— he stood and headed into the bathroom. Flipping the light on, he saw that the complimentary washcloth was now laid over the edge of the sink, whereas last night when he’d been shown to his room it had been folded on top of the towel ( both were on back of the toilet tank at the time) . The towel itself was hanging on the towel bar on the wall opposite the sink and commode.
Martie had used them.
Feeling like a fool, he reached for the towel and pulled it off the bar, holding it up to his nose and breathing in. The towel smelled faintly of soap and sex—and Martie. Her personal, unique smell was one he’d not soon forget. With a sigh, he threw the towel back over the bar and turned the tap on in the tub, pulling the vinyl curtain so he could take a shower.
He was in and out in fifteen minutes, and feeling much better for having slept and cleaned up. Of course, there was a dull ache in his chest when he thought of Calvin. That would take more than a good night’s sleep and a shower to cure, if anything ever could. Using the light from the bathroom to guide his way, he headed toward the couch, where he knew his clothes would be. He was surprised to note that the unfinished food and the room service cart were gone, and that his clothes had been laid in a neat, folded pile in the middle of the couch. Chris smiled, feeling his earlier annoyance diminish to realize that Martie had thought to take care of things. It wasn’t until he drew closer that he noticed the note and the recorder sitting on top of his shirt.
Picking up the piece of hotel stationary, he smirked at the two words she had printed: “Play me.” Beside them was a little smiley face. With a shake of his head, he picked up the recorder, switching it on as he turned and sat down on the end of the couch.
“ Hi, Chris… I kind of hate leaving you like this, but I don’t think I shou ld stay—even though I want to. J u s t imagine what your lady friends would think if they were to see me coming out of your room in the morning. Wouldn’t that go over well? ”
She laughed a little, then continued. “ I don’t want you to think I regret what happened between us tonight, because I don’t. It was wonderful. You made me feel like a woman for the first time in years, and I’m grateful for that. I’m also happy to have helped you begin to grieve for your friend. I don’t know if
Four
His arm reached out, his subconscious yearning for the feel of her body next to his. Finding the other side of the bed cold, Chris started awake.
“Martie?” he called out.
He got no answer. She was gone.
Sitting up, he looked around and noted that the curtains were closed. Swinging his legs to his left, he dropped them over the side of the bed and leaned forward to grab the edge of one of the drapes to pull it aside. Based on the pink and purple hues in the sky, the sun was just coming up. Martie had arrived last night at about 6:30, the steaks ordered shortly thereafter. The food was brought up shortly after seven, and he had kissed her…
Chris didn’t know what time that was. He was too interested in tasting Martie to b other looking at a clock. But they’d probably only been eating for about twenty minutes, so the kissing had st arted at around 7:30 , and that had led to their making love .
When had he fallen asleep?
To hazard a guess, somewhere between 8:30 and 9 :00 , which meant he’d been out cold fo r the entire night . God knew he’d needed the rest, but having chosen the fire service for his profession, he’d taught himself to be a light sleeper—he needed to be able to wake and get moving at a moment’s notice in his line of work, and it disturbed him that Martie had been able to get out of bed and leave without his hearing a sound.
Of course, Chris wasn’t entirely sure what bothered him more—that he hadn’t heard her leave, or the fact that she’d left.
Feeling annoyed—whether at Martie or himself he couldn’t say— he stood and headed into the bathroom. Flipping the light on, he saw that the complimentary washcloth was now laid over the edge of the sink, whereas last night when he’d been shown to his room it had been folded on top of the towel ( both were on back of the toilet tank at the time) . The towel itself was hanging on the towel bar on the wall opposite the sink and commode.
Martie had used them.
Feeling like a fool, he reached for the towel and pulled it off the bar, holding it up to his nose and breathing in. The towel smelled faintly of soap and sex—and Martie. Her personal, unique smell was one he’d not soon forget. With a sigh, he threw the towel back over the bar and turned the tap on in the tub, pulling the vinyl curtain so he could take a shower.
He was in and out in fifteen minutes, and feeling much better for having slept and cleaned up. Of course, there was a dull ache in his chest when he thought of Calvin. That would take more than a good night’s sleep and a shower to cure, if anything ever could. Using the light from the bathroom to guide his way, he headed toward the couch, where he knew his clothes would be. He was surprised to note that the unfinished food and the room service cart were gone, and that his clothes had been laid in a neat, folded pile in the middle of the couch. Chris smiled, feeling his earlier annoyance diminish to realize that Martie had thought to take care of things. It wasn’t until he drew closer that he noticed the note and the recorder sitting on top of his shirt.
Picking up the piece of hotel stationary, he smirked at the two words she had printed: “Play me.” Beside them was a little smiley face. With a shake of his head, he picked up the recorder, switching it on as he turned and sat down on the end of the couch.
“ Hi, Chris… I kind of hate leaving you like this, but I don’t think I shou ld stay—even though I want to. J u s t imagine what your lady friends would think if they were to see me coming out of your room in the morning. Wouldn’t that go over well? ”
She laughed a little, then continued. “ I don’t want you to think I regret what happened between us tonight, because I don’t. It was wonderful. You made me feel like a woman for the first time in years, and I’m grateful for that. I’m also happy to have helped you begin to grieve for your friend. I don’t know if
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