Slowly rolling his exhausted body to one side, we lay with our eyes closed, my fingers enveloped into his.
I can feel his breathing become steady and know that he is a well satisfied man.
I lie next to this man who I have worked for and known for years and realize I have never spent the night with him.
Is tonight the first?
His breathing becomes sleeping and I hear the phone ringing in his jacket.
Inching away from him, I step across the room and reach for his phone. I notice it is his wife and I set the phone in the bathroom, under a towel, to silence it. I didn't want it to wake him up.
Lifting his white shirt off the floor, I slip it on and button a few buttons.
Standing in the door frame of the bathroom, I watch him sleep. He looks very peaceful, so very handsome.
Vulnerable.
The wicked thought of jumping in the middle of him and riding him crosses my mind, but I drape my red dress across him instead. I can't resist painting his toenails with a single coat of my red nail polish. I brush it on lightly and quickly with silent giggles.
Taking the fruit plate and what is left of the wine in the bottle, I step out to the balcony. Nestling in a chair to watch the traffic lights zipping to who knows where in downtown Dallas on this fine evening, I wonder how many of the masses would like to be sipping wine and eating strawberries.
Leaving the door cracked a bit, the noise from the street and sirens from the distance wake him out of his afterglow nap. I can hear the bathroom door close and know that he is awake and moving around the room.
He pulls his pants on and checks his phone.
Pushing the sliding glass balcony door open as he joins me, I ask him if he wants some strawberries.
He lays his phone on the table, adjusts the chair so he can sit at the table with me and says "sure".
I ask him if he got his phone message and he responds with a grunt. He is not quite fully awake and notices that I have his shirt on.
"When did we change clothes?" he asks.
