the pristine white sheets from the bed, rolling the cases off the oversize pillows. She really needed to get the correct size the next time she went shopping— and she was thinking inane thoughts to avoid the issue front and center in her head. The linens filled the hamper to bursting and had the added advantage to pulling that towel down inside with them. Only then did she locate her purse and dig through the contents to find her phone.
“Are you okay? I’ve been calling since seven!”
“I’m fine, Sandra. No harm, no foul. Did the deed, the usual.”
Silence. Had she given it away? She thought she’d taken enough time to compose herself… Amy held her breath.
“I’m coming over. We’ll go for breakfast. Ten minutes.”
“I need to shower first. Make it half an hour.”
“Ten. I’m not leaving you alone to think and mess your head up.”
“Okay.” No point in arguing with an expert. Amy ended the call and took as hot a shower as she could stand.
She could still smell him, and scent triggered people as much , or more, than visual cues. Hence, the laundry pile. What had she been thinking? This felt pretty awful, the morning after syndrome, but awful in a different way. Usually she just felt used. Today she remembered the sexual vampire analogy and involuntarily touched the hollow of her throat, right where he’d—moving on. Had to. She hurriedly rinsed her hair and the residue of soap from her body, resolutely not thinking. She was wrapped in a bath sheet, her hair wound up in a smaller towel, when the door bell rang.
Heart pounding, she checked the security feed. Sandra. Disappointment and relief warred within as she made her way to the door to admit her friend.
Sandra walked right into her and put her arms around Amy’s waist, laying her head on her shoulder. Amy reciprocated, although she had to drop her head to do it. It had taken nearly six months before she allowed Sandra to touch her, and now she craved the other woman’s caring hugs and little physical contacts like a drug. Sandra’s muffled voice reached her ears.
“You got thrown for a loop.”
Not yet able to go there, Amy extricated herself from her friend’s hold. “I’ll get dressed, fix my hair and makeup. We’ll talk over breakfast, if I even know what it is we need to talk about.”
Sandra sat on the closed toilet seat while Amy applied moisturizer and light makeup, using waterproof mascara, predicting waterworks in her future. Damn. Would she never learn? Pulling her hair up into a clip, she figured it would dry eventually. Sandra may have the day off, but Amy had work to do this afternoon, so they could only spend the morning together. She had no idea what she’d do without Sandra and worried she’d push her friend away at some point with her constant backsliding. So what if it had been months and months since her last stupidness? She’d not only backslid last night—she’d fallen over the proverbial cliff.
The hamper loomed in her peripheral vision while she brushed her teeth. Shoving the toothbrush into the slot in the china holder , Amy leaned to open the folding door shielding the upright laundry unit. It was a simple matter to dump the linens and towels into the washer, adding her bath sheet and the towel from her hair, totally comfortable in her nakedness around Sandra. Her friend had seen her in far more revealing circumstances than this. And in much worse shape. Pouring in detergent with a lavish hand she punched the button and lowered the lid. The comforting sound of flowing water filled the room. Sandra made no comment, her silence eloquent.
Amy had to make a brief trip back to the hamper with her clothes from the night before, searching out her panties and bra, picking up her crumpled shirt and jeans. A fresh outfit was easy enough to pull together, despite the fact she’d put her brain in neutral, and she was good to go. The little dress was perfect for the weather, and the halter tie covered Dean’s
“Are you okay? I’ve been calling since seven!”
“I’m fine, Sandra. No harm, no foul. Did the deed, the usual.”
Silence. Had she given it away? She thought she’d taken enough time to compose herself… Amy held her breath.
“I’m coming over. We’ll go for breakfast. Ten minutes.”
“I need to shower first. Make it half an hour.”
“Ten. I’m not leaving you alone to think and mess your head up.”
“Okay.” No point in arguing with an expert. Amy ended the call and took as hot a shower as she could stand.
She could still smell him, and scent triggered people as much , or more, than visual cues. Hence, the laundry pile. What had she been thinking? This felt pretty awful, the morning after syndrome, but awful in a different way. Usually she just felt used. Today she remembered the sexual vampire analogy and involuntarily touched the hollow of her throat, right where he’d—moving on. Had to. She hurriedly rinsed her hair and the residue of soap from her body, resolutely not thinking. She was wrapped in a bath sheet, her hair wound up in a smaller towel, when the door bell rang.
Heart pounding, she checked the security feed. Sandra. Disappointment and relief warred within as she made her way to the door to admit her friend.
Sandra walked right into her and put her arms around Amy’s waist, laying her head on her shoulder. Amy reciprocated, although she had to drop her head to do it. It had taken nearly six months before she allowed Sandra to touch her, and now she craved the other woman’s caring hugs and little physical contacts like a drug. Sandra’s muffled voice reached her ears.
“You got thrown for a loop.”
Not yet able to go there, Amy extricated herself from her friend’s hold. “I’ll get dressed, fix my hair and makeup. We’ll talk over breakfast, if I even know what it is we need to talk about.”
Sandra sat on the closed toilet seat while Amy applied moisturizer and light makeup, using waterproof mascara, predicting waterworks in her future. Damn. Would she never learn? Pulling her hair up into a clip, she figured it would dry eventually. Sandra may have the day off, but Amy had work to do this afternoon, so they could only spend the morning together. She had no idea what she’d do without Sandra and worried she’d push her friend away at some point with her constant backsliding. So what if it had been months and months since her last stupidness? She’d not only backslid last night—she’d fallen over the proverbial cliff.
The hamper loomed in her peripheral vision while she brushed her teeth. Shoving the toothbrush into the slot in the china holder , Amy leaned to open the folding door shielding the upright laundry unit. It was a simple matter to dump the linens and towels into the washer, adding her bath sheet and the towel from her hair, totally comfortable in her nakedness around Sandra. Her friend had seen her in far more revealing circumstances than this. And in much worse shape. Pouring in detergent with a lavish hand she punched the button and lowered the lid. The comforting sound of flowing water filled the room. Sandra made no comment, her silence eloquent.
Amy had to make a brief trip back to the hamper with her clothes from the night before, searching out her panties and bra, picking up her crumpled shirt and jeans. A fresh outfit was easy enough to pull together, despite the fact she’d put her brain in neutral, and she was good to go. The little dress was perfect for the weather, and the halter tie covered Dean’s
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