“It responds to voice commands. Shower on, preset five.” The overhead rain shower kit begins to fill the room with steam. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s so…open.”
“It can be what you see as a sunken shower the size of a small bathroom or it can become a jacuzzi tub large enough to swim in.”
“You won’t be swimming today, Professor.”
“Doubtful. Not to mention the stairs.” I giggle that out. Giggle? I don’t giggle.
The extra moisture in the air begins to kink her hair slightly. The new waves frame her blurred face in such a beautiful way. I reach out to touch them, but I miss and trace her plump lips instead. “I um…” she stumbles, “Did you…how do you want to deal with your clothes?”
I can feel the corners of my mouth turn upward as she blushes with anticipation of my answer. “I need to rid myself of these jeans. However, I will leave on what’s beneath. The first time I’m fully naked before you, I want a clear head.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
“Cocky to the last.”
I start to fumble with the button on my denim as I try to focus on her face. My hand-eye coordination continues to be shit as my fingers slip every time. My head falls to my hands in utter frustration until first her feet, then her knees, and finally her hands pull into view.
The pale pink of her nails is brilliant against the dark wash of my denim as she softly undoes the button and trails the zipper down. “If you can’t do that, how do you expect to shower?”
“This might be the question of the day.”
“Slide off that cotton-soaked layer of paint without hurting yourself,” she orders as she reaches around her back and up toward the base of her neck.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Well, since you can’t stand and I’m not going to leave you to drown on the ceramic tile, I’m going to have to get in with you.”
The boldness at which she utters that statement would have been enough, under normal conditions, to render me into pounce mode. The parts of my brain and body that are working are increasingly disappointed in the ones that don’t.
As her dress pools at her feet, I’m left with another vision in pink. It’s a pink lace that blends with the ivory of her skin. I’m able to focus enough to commit the image of the demi cup that holds Nora so gently, so perfectly. The cut of her boy shorts hits over the curves of her hips and globe of her backside in the most decadent of ways.
My habits. I’m falling into them. If it’s not alcohol, it’s sex. I try to wash everything away with one or the other. The alcohol is waning. The fire is igniting. The counter I’m sitting on, the bedroom we passed through to get here, the pile of pillows in my studio. These are all the places where I’ve, in an instant, fantasized about taking her.
That’s not how I want her. I don’t want to take her. I want her to come willingly.
“What?” she asks.
“Your skin.” I brush my thumb down the side of her rib cage. “Even now, it’s soft like the petals of a rose. Petal.”
“You’re still drunk. Follow me slowly.” She takes both of my hands and tugs slightly to elevate me to stand. She makes steady steps down into the shower basin until we are standing nose to nose under the heated cascade of water. The instant warmth sets the room into a tailspin. It’s just enough to keep me on the brink of ill and off balance.
Her keen senses realize it instantly as she threads her hands with mine, turns my body slowly, and places my palms on the wall in front of us. My chin falls closer and closer to my chest as the water aims to rinse away not only the bourbon seeping from my every pore but the emotion that put it there in the first place.
The fog in my brain isn’t enough to erase the irony of being in the shower with her. Her simple presence is enough to make me conjure all the things I want to do to her. Then, after I watched her move and pose for the camera, I stood in this very spot, nearly in this very position, and washed my crippling desire for her down the drain.
My muscles tense with my thoughts until her soothing touch begins to massage my head. The gentle scent of vanilla takes hold in every strand of my hair. She’s caring for me as if I were her own. Her own.
“You haven’t asked me about last night, Nora.”
Her compassionate touch continues to rinse me clean. “I didn’t want to pry.”
“You wouldn’t be. You deserve an explanation, considering you stayed when you didn’t have to.”
“I couldn’t have left you.”
She takes a deep breath. Those five words felt like a confession. She deserves that in turn. “Yesterday was the anniversary of something very painful.”
“Yes. Raissa. You said her name. Losing someone is never easy.”
Her palm works in slow circles down my spine and over my ribs. “No. It’s not. Especially when it’s your other half.”
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“I can’t. Not right now.” My fist pounds the tile gently before I turn to face her. Her hair is now fully wet and slicked back from her face. The water droplets are pooling in the soft slopes of her collarbone. “Raissa was my sister. My sweet little sister.” Nora’s eyes widen slightly. “I’m usually very much alone on these nights. Thank you for staying.”
We stand under the falling manufactured rain, mere inches apart. The sound of the water and our own breath is what’s being spoken. Nora’s delicate hand cups my cheek. Her hand is like a lifeline. It’s a simple act.
I can have touch any time I want. Sex gives that to me. It’s what I use to make sure I still feel anything. I have a few beautiful women who’ve attempted to fill that hole. They all seem to, however, want something in return I’m unable to give.
Nora’s hand is not one filled with desire or want. Her touch is filled with compassion and empathy. It’s filled with kindness and nurture. It sparks the return of a feeling inside of me. I don’t dare name it, for it would assuredly disappear. I do need to see if it’s real.
I lean into her petite palm. There is a distinct electricity there. I knew it from the initial glance in her direction. This was the confirmation of that first meeting, and others that have followed. “I want so much to kiss you, but I can’t. Not like this.”
“What if I want to kiss you?” she asks.
Before I can properly answer her, she presses her lips to my shoulder. Then, the side of my neck. I involuntarily release a slow growl. My body starts to shake even inside the shield of warm water. Her touch is what I’ve needed all along. I’ve known it since watching her dance in the darkness.
Her lips are the softest thing to touch me in I can’t remember when. Her faded ruby red lips rest on my eyelid. I can feel them take in the littlest bit of water as they taste my skin. My fingers slide under the straps on her bra. I allow them to ride from her shoulder blades, over the top and to the apex of her beautiful breasts.
A sigh leaves her lungs in a rush. “Do you have class today?” I ask.
Her eyes come back to the present and focus on my lips. I watch her process the words before she simply nods. “I’m supposed to.”