"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.
"I have a plan" replied John.
He rummaged in their bags for a brief moment before pulling out a pair of long socks.
"Aha!" He exclaimed.
He knelt at the bed and gently pulled at one of Marie's legs, straightening it out. She leaned back onto her arms, letting him do whatever he was planning to do. At least socks were involved, she thought to herself. She hated having cold feet.
John slowly unrolled the sock onto her foot, pulling it up over her ankle and calf. He raised her leg, placing her foot on his chest. He slowly unrolled the sock further, up to her bent knee, then above it. He had a cheeky grin on his lips as he did do, his eyes moving from her face to her leg as he unrolled the sock, to the now exposed junction of her thighs where the curls of her pubis where nestled.
He placed her socked foot down and took the other one up. He followed the same slow procedure, unrolling the warm sock inch by inch along her long leg. Marie was looking at his face, at the obvious pleasure he was deriving from his little act. She let her leg open a little more, her hips tilt another inch, feeling the cool air on the lips of her pussy, knowing he could see more now, see the pink swell part the brown curls of her sex. The gleam in his eyes was her reward, his desire for her obvious.
She was a little surprised when he stepped back, placing her foot down on the bed. He didn't usually miss the chance to plant his lips on her exposed pussy.
Instead he stood up and walked back to the kitchen area to grab his camera.
"Can you take your t-shirt off? You can keep the hoodie on," he said as he walked back into the bedroom.
"And what exactly do you think we are doing?" She asked, but she still slipped the t-shirt over her head, sliding her arms back into the opened hoodie. She could feel the nipples on her small breasts become tight and long. A heat was rising in her belly, so maybe it wasn't just the cool air that caused that.
"I am going to take pictures of you, because you are damn sexy. I hope that is ok with you," he said with a grin.
Always that grin, Marie thought to herself, that cheeky grin. I'm in trouble.
John stepped up on the bed, his feet on either side of her legs, the camera held close to his face.
"What do you want me to do?" Asked Marie.
"Just look at me, relax, stretch...' he replied, the camera to his eye, his finger already on the shutter.
Marie laid back, her arms by her head. She was conscious of how the soft fabric of her hoodie had slipped to the side, exposing her breasts. Were her breast too small? Would they look good? She pushed the flash of insecurity aside, staring up at John, his smile, his eyes on her body lit up by love and lust. She slid her thighs together, twisting her hips from side to side. The camera clicked away.
John stood above her, moving closer for shots of her face, moving away, taking her all in. Marie closed her eyes, listening to the music, letting her body move, her hands moving across her face, her body. She squeezed her breasts, tugging at her nipples. There was heat alright.
John jumped off the bed.
