"How can you be cold?"
"How are you NOT cold?" Exclaimed Marie, taking another hit on the bong graciously left by their host.
Bali had been left behind, its warmth and jungles replaced by the concrete charms of Adelaide, in Australia, far, far to the South and much closer to Antartica and its icy winds. Both John and Marie had to eventually leave Bali, and Adelaide was the jump-off point for travelers heading back to the United States. Friends of Marie's had generously offered their apartment for a night while the two travelers waited for their flight, including in the welcome packet a bong and a substantial amount of pot.
Marie was curled up on a chair, her long legs covered in baggy sweatpants, her small frame hidden under a long t-shirt and an opened hoodie. The remnants of their meal was scattered on the wooden table in front of her, pushed aside to make room for the bong and a glass of red wine.
John was standing in the small kitchen, searching through the cupboards for tea cups. He was dressed in his Bali-standard shorts and t-shirt apparently unaffected by the drop in temperature. His salt-and-pepper beard was a little more disheveled, his skin a little darker than when they first met, but he retained that solid frame Marie loved to hand off of.
"Well, the water is almost boiling," he said, pointing to the kettle sitting on the stove. "Why don't you put some music on?"
"I can do that," Replied Marie, reaching over to push buttons on the small stereo perched nearby.
The apartment was small and cozy, a one bedroom in a small building in the outskirts of Adelaide. It reminded Marie of Bali, with its wood floors and wood furniture, colorful wall hangings, and a large plant in the corner. It had the colors of warmth and jungles and open oceans. Double doors opened onto the small bedroom where a large bed had pride of place.
Marie started to relax, the cannabis doing its job. The music pulsed though her chest, getting her shoulders moving with the beat, down tempo honey in her ears. John placed a cup of hot tea in front of her.
"It's decaf," he said as he sat down at the table, a small camera in his hand. He started thumbing through the pictures, looking at them on the camera's little screen.
"Any good shots?" Asked Marie.
"Some," he answered. "I didn't take a lot. I was distracted," he said with a grin.
"Any cute ones of us? I'd love to have some record of our trip," she said, hopeful.
John raised the camera to his eye, framing Marie in the viewfinder as she held the mug of coffee close to her lips. Her bright red hair was pulled away from her face, her blue eyes shining brightly. He snapped a picture.
"Not really. Some of you, some landscapes." He turned the camera, framing Marie again. Another picture.
"So now you take pictures".
"You look beautiful."
"I'm in sweats and a hoody. Real sexy," she said sarcastically.
"Strike a pose then," he replied, challenging.
Marie chuckled and struck an exaggerated pose, lips pursed, hand behind her head. John took a quick picture.
"Hey! You better delete that!" She exclaimed,"I was just fucking around."
"Well I'm not," he said, smiling. "Come on, pose."
Marie sighed, rolled her eyes, but in the end she posed, sitting in her chair, looking over her shoulder at John. He took a picture.
"You look great," he said as he took a second picture.
"I don't know what else to do," she said, shrugging.
"Just move with the music," suggested John.
Marie took a few seconds, listening to the music oozing out of the speakers. She was high, feeling good, finding her groove. She started moving her shoulders, her head, still seated on her chair. John stood up, moving around her, taking a few pictures.
Marie started to dance, still seated, moving sensually, arms up. John clicked away.
"There's no way you're getting good pictures," said Marie, lowering her arms and being still. "I look like a bum in this outfit."
"Well, let's change that," said John. He stood up , putting the camera on the table. He reached over to her, hand out.
"What?" She said, confused.
"Stand up," he said, as if it was obvious.
Marie had an inkling of what he wanted, but she was curious to see what he had in mind. A little tremor of excitement rose in her belly.
She stood up. John bent over and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. Marie squealed with surprise at the sudden movement. He carried her over to the bedroom and laid her on the bed, her feet tumbling up. Before she could recover her senses, John was pulling at her sweatpants, pulling them off of her legs and tossing them over his shoulder.
Marie sat on the bed, legs crossed. "I'm going to be cold," she pouted.
