This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
After the bath the drying of, the white towel under the arms, over arms and breasts, between thighs, all over until all dries or near so, and while drying, she thinks of the long afternoon spent, the meal, art gallery and back to the hotel for sex and talk and sex again. She smiles, drying along her thigh, here where he put his lips, kiss planting, lips damp and wet, his tongue lick lick, she laughs softly, dries her buttocks, rubs and rubs, and him reciting some short bawdy poem, tapping his fingers along her spine. She pauses the drying of, sits and recalls the kisses set, the places laid, the excitement caused and raised and she in giggles near to wetting and he laughing. After the bathing, the rumination and towelling all over, skin rubbed, bath oils, powder, remembering embraces, touching in places (what would Mother have said?), and he running finger along her nerves and setting her juices to flow, then have to leave, said he, have to go,
then gone, bed empty, space vacated, scent left, odours lingering, still on fire, unsatisfied desire. She sits and puts down the towel, takes cigarette, lights, inhales and thinks on and when next and where, and if in truth, he’ll come and (God be praised) ever be there.