Desperate to Touch

“I’ll get them. Go to sleep.”

She doesn’t agree. She doesn’t protest either. She simply watches me as I close the door, making a mental note to reward her in the morning.

Laura

Even though I’m not there anymore, I can’t help thinking: it’s been a long damn time since I’ve woken up in someone else’s bed. I like to leave in the middle of the night, if I bother staying after a round in the sheets with a man. I only remember staying with one of the guys I’d actually slept with in his bed till morning.

And I never bring them back here. Never. My loft is my safe place.

So as the hot water sprays against my skin, feeling especially brutal against my ass, I think there’s only been one other time, one other guy who I’ve laid in bed next to and slept till morning.

I don’t even remember that poor guy’s name. It was a decent night, but I only stayed because I’d come off a long shift before the date. It was just fine. Everything about every other guy is always… just fine.

Turning around to wash away the soap that’s lathered on my front, I open my mouth and drink some of the hot water. The steam fills the stall and I stare absently at the grayish-blue subway tile. I thought about objecting more than I thought about sleeping when Seth was there, staring at me expectantly. The moment the door closed and I closed my eyes, all I could smell was him. That woodsy, masculine scent that reminds me of home.

Nothing reminds me of home… nothing but Seth.

All I could smell was him; all I could feel were his hands on me, his cock inside of me. Fuck, even now as I wash myself, my hands reach lower and I swear I can still feel him pulsing inside of me.

Even with the heat surrounding me, I shiver. Loving the way it feels, loving the memory of it.

The moment I closed my eyes last night and let myself be consumed by the remnants of Seth, I fell deep asleep. It was dreamless, but peaceful. I haven’t slept like that in years.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell sounds loudly in my bathroom. The loft is small enough to hear that thing from any corner of my home.

I’m quick to turn off the spray and dry off haphazardly before throwing on a cotton bathrobe. I’m nowhere near presentable, but I can at least peek through the peephole. As I walk, I catch a glimpse of the large clock on the wall in my living room. It’s a farmhouse design, galvanized silver and oval with barn wood behind the moving hands. It’s not even noon yet. I’ve been home for nearly two hours since Seth and I parted, him to work, whatever that might be.

It reminds me of what else I was thinking about in the shower.

It’s been a long damn time since I’ve slept in a man’s bed. An even longer time since I’ve woken up to an early morning lazy fuck. With the tingling sensation still ringing along my skin, I open the door for the delivery woman.

With her hair pulled into a tight bun and a ruby red smile, she asks my name and makes me sign before handing me a long rectangular white box.

I’m glad it’s a woman, since my robe slips open just slightly as I sign. She can’t see anything, but still.

Kicking the door shut behind me, I wonder what’s in the box. There’s a single ribbon, satin and dark red, in the center of it. It’s easy enough to untie. There’s no note, no sender information. Only my name. Not even an address.

At the realization, I turn back to look at my front door. Questions are ringing in my head. I’m sure she’s long gone, so instead of chasing her, I merely purse my lips and open the box.

Long-stemmed flowers. Their soft floral scent hits my senses just as quickly as the smile on my face and warmth up my chest.

With my bare feet padding on the floor and water still dripping from the tips of my hair, I trace the petals of the blush buttercup ranunculus and the white anemones. It’s a full bouquet and given that it’s fall, I imagine it wasn’t cheap.

Grabbing the step stool so I can reach the top shelf, I take out my expensive vase, not the basic clear ones that are on the bottom shelf.

I cut each stem, remembering when Seth gave me a similar bouquet. It was our first year anniversary. I think it’s the first real gift he ever got me. Technically we never gave ourselves a date. But every year, on the date of our first kiss and our first night together, Seth gave me a bouquet, and this one was the first. These flowers and these colors. Much smaller and not quite as fancy as these are, but the same flowers.