“Just this one. I was too chicken to get another one,” she laughs.
“What’s the story behind this one?”
She glances down at it. “Books are my thing. I love to escape from reality in stories that feel better than my own.”
I look at her, thoughtfully. “That’s a little sad, isn’t it?”
Her shoulders slump when I start to massage her feet, one at a time. She lets out a low moan that I want to swallow with my mouth, but I take pleasure in watching her eyes close, the look of contentment on her face.
“How so?” she finally murmurs.
“Because you’re talking like you don’t have a good story. At least not one getting lost in.”
Her eyes are still closed, but now her forehead bears wrinkles of wonderment.
“I have a good story. I have a good career. It’s just… I like to disappear into something else every now and then.”
I nod. Understanding. Her feet are still in my hands, and I’m still rubbing, massaging, and kneading out the tension and ache she might have from dancing all night long.
“Well, try not to escape too much. You might miss something good when it’s right in front of you.”
Her eyes open, connecting with mine. Then she looks away shyly, before closing them again.
“You should switch professions. You don’t know how good this feels right now,” she says after a long pause.
“You like that?”
“I do,” she hums, a smile breaking across her face. I shake my head, smiling to myself as I keep going, causedamn, this woman…her energy is intoxicating, and I’m starting to think I’ve become addicted to her.
I drag my fingers along the curve of her heel, then back up again. Her leg shifts slightly against my thigh, her body seeming to sink deeper into the chair. A soft exhale leaves her lips, long and slow.
“Damn…” she whispers.
I feel the slight quiver of her leg, and Marley sits up as if remembering something important.
“Um. I should go take a shower. It’s late,” she says, pulling her leg from my grasp.
“Okay.”
I watch her pick up her heels.
“Not unless you want to take one first. I mean, it's your room and everything.”
How about a shower with you? We can save water.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll wait.”
“Are you sure? Because I know you’re ready for me to be out of here.”
“What?No. When did I say that?”
“I mean, you said you went to the front desk to see about getting my own room, so I assumed?—”
“Marley, no. I was trying to fix what I messed up. Trying to give your vacation a bit of normalcy after the mistake I made.”
She drops her gaze to the floor, a rush of embarrassment flushing over her face.
“Oh…”
