“I’ll get the key back tomorrow. I’m sorry about that,” I offer quietly from behind her as she unlocks my door.
“Oh, honey, it’s no big deal. People lose these room keys on the beach every summer. Good thing I get a good deal on those cute little surfboards, huh?” She smiles and winks as she holds the door to my room open for me. She’s clearly proud of her lovely little motel and I can see it. She wears her pride like a badge. It’s a little heartwarming even for me, the chronically bitchy Ice Queen.
“Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Dawn.”
“No problem, hon. Need anything else?”
I shake my head no and smile.
“Okay. I’ll see ya later.”
“Bye.”
The door clicks shut and I secure the deadbolt, lean against the back of the door, and sink to the floor in a heap, but not before I shamefully scrunch the collar of Zander’s shirt up to my nose and inhale. I close my eyes, draw him in, try not to hate myself for doing it or hate Zander for making me want to do it.
***
I run my wrist beneath the stream of water to make sure that it isn’t too hot and, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, peel myself out of my clothes. Zander’s clothes. The white t-shirt hangs from the tip of my fingers. It’s soft. Feels good. Smells even better. I meant to drop his shirt to the floor but I can’t. The long-lost, purely female part of me won’t drop it. I look at myself in the mirror. My breasts are full and round, my nipples tight. My cheeks are just the faintest shade of pink. The mirror has begun to fog so that my reflection is a little obscured, which makes looking at myself much easier because right now…I ache. I ache so badly. The long-lost butterflies that Zander planted in my stomach today have roused another long-lost part of me.
Desire.
Dragging my gaze from the blurred reflection of myself, I look down to Zander’s shirt in my hand. I know what I’m about to do. The tingling sensation gathering between my legs is driving me forward. It’s fueling my courage with an endless amount of blind passion. I don’t have to look at myself. I don’t have to think. I just want to feel. Pulling the shirt to my face, I inhale. With my eyes shut, I imagine him wearing this shirt. I imagine Zander standing so close to me that I seem to melt into him. I can picture his arms around me, his hands tangling into my hair. His mouth is on my neck, nipping at the tender spot beneath my jaw, pushing his hips forward until I can’t stand the wait any longer, his breathing ragged and needy against my skin. Fuck, he would feel so good. I just know it. My core clenches at nothingness, prompting my hips to undulate towards vacant space in front of me. I use one hand to easily slink Zander’s shorts down my legs. They fall to the floor with a soft whoosh. I step out of them and go to the tub. The water is perfect. I flip the drain toggle upward and water quickly begins to fill the tub. I step in with Zander’s shirt still pressed to my face. The tub is oversized and perfect for me to sink down in. The cool ceramic coating sends a shiver through me as I get comfortable. I rest against the back of it, letting the shirt trail down the front of me.
The smell of him is all around me. Thoughts of him fill my head. My free hand skates leisurely down my stomach and around my navel. A wave of self-induced goosebumps spreads across my skin. With my eyes still shut, breathing in his scent, I let my fingers drift to my slick center. A small gasp escapes when the pad of my middle finger glides easily across my clit. It’s easy to picture him here with me, making my body hum with need. My finger makes pass after pass over my sensitive, slick knot of nerves. Heat rushes. Arousal builds. My hands shake, moving frantically, desperate for release. My hips thrust forward, bucking back and forth, seeking resistance and friction. A sob-like moan strangles from my throat. My eyes water. I draw my knees up closer, letting them open as wide as the sides of the tub will allow them. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as the first glistening hints of climax spring forward deep in my core. A growing tightness steals my breath.
One.
Two.
Three more passes from my diligent finger and the world falls away and implodes simultaneously. My other hand goes to my center and I plunge two fingers into my channel just in time to feel the body-racking spasms tear through me. I gasp and moan and cry out almost all at once.
My breathing slows, my body relaxing languidly against the tub. I thought that I’d feel better afterwards. I thought a little release would serve me well, but I was so fucking wrong. A burgeoning melancholy more powerful than I’m prepared for stalks up to me and engulfs me right here in the bathroom.