"Wanna a different room?" I asked.
"Nah. One room in a Seesh Mahal is as bad as the next. It's not like we booked a suite at the Waldorf."
"You sure?"
"As long as there's no cock roaches," she winked plopping herself down on the first bed. "And as long as they have hot water I'm sure. You know, there's nothing like the feeling of when you first check into a room, the first twenty minutes or so, it's like escape - there's no pressure in the world."
"I wouldn't know," I answered.
Shannie studied me a second before smacking the mattress at her sides. "Anywho, I'm dying for a shower. Alone!" she added noticing my eyes sparkle.
***
I laid on the bed closest to the bathroom, listening to the water dance over Shannie's body. Its sound danced with the slap of runoff upon the shower's floor. I closed my eyes, imagining myself a drop of water, running down the side of her neck, along her chest, rising over the corner of a breast before falling between them. I fell into a light sleep picturing myself evaporating in her body's heat.
"Just James," Shannie whispered leaning over me, her breath tickling my nose. "Your turn." A drop of water from her dangling mane fell upon my lips; my tongue immediately captured it. I savored its taste.
Towel clad, Shannie bounced off the bed and stood in front of the mirror running her hands through her hair, "I can't believe how naked I feel without my hairdryer."
"I can't believe how naked you'd feel under that towel," I stumbled out of bed. In the mirror, Shannie's eyes followed me into the bathroom.
Goosebumps exploded over my body as I stepped out of the shower into the cold dark room. Except for the rattle of the air conditioner, a sound wasn't to be heard. Shannie was asleep. Disappointed, I stumbled towards my bed, never imagining when I got there I'd find years of late night wishes staring up at me. Wordlessly, Shannie pulled away the covers, inviting me to join her.
In the darkness, I studied the outline of Shannie's nakedness, struggling to make out once familiar details. In front of me was not the bud of the girl I remembered from that summer afternoon, but the blossom of a woman I loved.
My head spun as I climbed into bed. I fell into her softness. Her arms pulled my chest to hers. The warm silkiness of her legs intertwined with mine. Cold air and fingernails raked my back. Her lips found my shoulder while somehow she wrapped the cover around us. Beneath the bed spun. I drew a breath to utter silly words, a finger brushed over my lips, silencing them.