I hear her in the bathroom, so I flip the sheets back and walk to the door.

I tap.

“Come in,” she says.

It’s steamy. She’s wrapped the generous hotel towel around her torso.

I admire the ripple of muscles in her smooth shoulder as she leans toward the mirror with the lipstick, the amazing whiteness of her teeth.

“Wow.”

“You like?” she says, turning.

“Stunning,” I say. “Even with the towel.”

“Dirty boy,” she says.

“Do you have to go?”

“I need to get this over with.”

“And you want to look good.”

She kisses me. “Yes I do.”

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