"Ooo, sorry! I should have warned you."
"Oh, no, no, that feels good," he sighs, gripping the sides of the tub, and as the tub drains, I feel the weight of my body pulling down. I feel the fullness of his cock in my mouth as deeply as I can go. My jaw starts to ache, so I alternate caressing him with my lips and tongue, and tease his balls until they tighten up and he shudders. He's close. I gently take his head back in my mouth and stroke the shaft. I'm usually not a swallower, but I want
his
cum. He bucks a few times, shooting into the back of my throat, fast and furious. I suck and swallow, coaxing it all out. Jimmy's gasping, either in pain or delight or both. I swallow the last bit and lick the tip, just to finish him off.
"I wanted to give you something nice before I left, to thank you for your hospitality," I smile. With a shaky hand, he pulls me to his heaving chest. My belly lies against his spent privates, keeping them warm while they recuperate.
"Holy cow!" Jimmy lays his head back, catching his breath. "You're very good at that, thank you."
"You're welcome," I sigh, nestling into his chest. I know our time is almost up.
Just one foot in front of the other.
Almost time to go and be logical again, but I don't think Heart and Logic are going to get along for quite a while after this. Can they compromise?
"You didn't finish your coffee," Jimmy murmurs.
"I doubt you did, either. We didn't get the chance."
I reach for my coffee, sitting on the edge of the tub. It's cold, but still tastes good. I sit back into him again, wondering how this scene looks--a naked man and woman, drinking cold coffee in an empty bathtub. Frighteningly comfortable yet odd, as if we do this all the time. I realize that Pete and I never did anything like this.
I finish my coffee and gingerly place the cup back on the sink's edge. "Shit, I gotta' go."
"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."
I pull a disheveled towel off of the rack. Clean, folded towels sit in a stack on the floor, but I want to wrap up in a towel I think he's touched recently. I dry my feet on the rose-colored bathroom rug, cross the cold kitchen floor, then hunt and peck for my clothing. A pen and small spiral-bound notebook lie on the kitchen table. I pause, then tear out a sheet of paper, write my phone number on it, fold it, and quickly tuck it under his pillow.
Just as I finish dressing, Jimmy emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He gathers me in his arms, swaying back and forth as if in a gentle breeze. "Thanks for staying over. I know it could mean a lot of trouble for you, but it was a lot of fun," his voice trails off in my ear.
"I know. I had a wonderful night. I'll never forget it." I murmur, my voice muffled in his chest. I needed that night. Should I tell him that?
He holds me close for a long time. This is it. I squeeze and release and squeeze my eyelids--no, not again! His arms slacken and let go. He watches me put on my sweater that was lying over the chair, and my shoes. Then I take a seat at the table and wait for Jimmy, taking his turn to dress. He puts on underwear, jeans, and a black hoodie, remains barefoot.
My stomach clenches as I ask him for directions back to my hotel. I don't want him to walk me back. I put the pen on the notebook and push it across the table towards him as he sits down. Jimmy blows a bit of air out between his lips. He looks at me briefly, smiles a little, and starts writing directions. The longer he writes, the slower he writes. At the end, he hesitates, then writes Alton, drawing a heavy line underneath. He rotates the notebook and pushes it across to me, then sits back, unblinking.
With arms and hands heavy like lead, I tear off the paper, one little hole at a time. Jimmy watches as the paper tears away, but I'm not sure if he's really seeing it, or if he's a million miles away. I fold the paper and put it in my pocket. We sit a minute longer at that little table, just looking at each other.
"Well, take care, Jimmy. Take good care of yourself." I can't muster any more words. I stand up, open the door, and leave.
***
Mist hangs in the air outside Jimmy's apartment, sticky and grabbing my shoulders, following me. I pull out the directions and look at them through burning eyes. One deep breath, now... one foot in front of the other. Hard to believe that I need to recall such a simple concept as walking. A gust of wind stirs old brown leaves and bits of trash about my feet and throws grit in my eyes, collaborating with the city to whip me during my Walk of Shame.
And so it should be, as I walk back to the Alton. With a secret. As if nothing happened.
***
I push my way around the revolving door into the stuffy lobby. A man with curly brown hair gesticulates at the desk clerk. The clerk looks my way and says something to the man, who turns with a terrible scowl on his face-- Pete! I lurch to a halt and someone bumps into me, "Uh, 'scuse me." I look. Two older boys with haggard eyes and goofy grins pass around me.
The scowling man with curly brown hair,
not
Pete, approaches the boys, "Where the fuck were you last night?"
"Just out on the town, Dad. Chill!" the one boy says. The other one snickers.
Near the elevators but out of sight of the front desk, I lean against the marble wall, recalling how to breath from yoga class and wait for my legs to stop shaking. Eventually, I gather myself and walk along the wall to the elevators, gliding my hand along the cool surface. I don't think anyone noticed me and honestly, no one here cares about what I do.
So, why am I worried?
In the sanctuary of my room, I flick on the lamp by the side of the bed. My heart slows since the scare in the lobby. I feel stupid, my cheeks hot and dry. I check my phone. No messages, no texts.
The room feels so still.
My hand rests on the pocket of my dress, then I remove the contents and place them on the nightstand. I place Jimmy's handwritten directions to the hotel in an upper left quadrant, the room key beneath it, my leftover cash to the right of the room key.
The upper right quadrant remains empty. I place the lipstick in the empty spot, completing the picture of what Jimmy wouldn't tell me. I don't care, though. I like him. He's fun, funny, and I talked to him all night like it was nothing. I haven't talked that openly in years. Why didn't I meet him twenty years ago?
Don't go there.
I smirk. Twenty years ago, he was still in school.
I pick up the tube of lipstick, rolling it back and forth in my palm. I should throw it away, but then, why can't I keep a memento? It's just a tube of lipstick.
