Page 37 of The Woman in 3B
“I need a shower,” she casually announced. “I need to rinse the chlorine off my body. Do you want one, too?”
My brain was still struggling from her previous line of questioning. I could only nod in response.
Anissa began to climb the stairs to the second floor, and I followed a few steps behind. Her coverup fell to mid-thigh, but the bottom hem crept up higher on her tan legs as she steadily climbed the staircase. I was enjoying the view, but more than that, I needed time and space to let my brain catch up to my body.
Was she planning on us showering together? Were we going to take turns? She’d made me wear a tiny bikini in front of her family, but I didn’t know if I was ready to be naked in a shower with her. We hadn’t even kissed.
The silent march to the second floor was over too soon.
“Guest bathroom is right in there.” Anissa gestured towards an open door. “Towels and toiletries are already in there, so use whatever you need.”
She’d been so bold before in her earlier pursuit of me, the change of venue was a surprise. “O-okay. Thanks.”
“See you in a bit,” she said before padding off in the direction of her bedroom.
The warm jet of water tried to jolt me awake from my surreal dream. I was naked, in the guest bedroom of a woman whom I hardly knew. And yet, I’d met her family. I’d told her details about my life that people whom I had dated over multiple months had never known.
I exhaled deeply. What was I doing here? This had all started as an inter-company competition, but there were no bingo squares for what I was currently doing.
I stood directly under the spray of the showerhead and let the hot water stream down my face. There were few things I enjoyed more than a rainfall showerhead, but I couldn’t entirely abandon myself to the feeling. My brain was too busy to let myself relax.
What was I doing in this woman’s shower? I was sure I was overstaying my welcome.But had I really forced myself into the situation or had her invitation been genuine? And how many near-strangers had used this shower before? If I dug a little deeper in the cabinets and drawers of the guest bathroom, what would I find? A smorgasbord of single-use toothpaste, toothbrushes, and other travel-sized toiletries? I felt out of my element, but maybe this was common in her world. Her bourbon-inspired sex solicitation in a hotel outside of Philadelphia suggested that very thing.
I hid in the shower for as long as I dared. My fingers were only slightly wrinkled, but if I lingered too much longer Anissa might think I’d drowned in her shower.
I groaned when another realization came to me. I’d pulled a towel from the linen closet, but besides the itty-bitty bikini, I didn’t actually have clothes to change into. The outfit I’d so painstakingly picked out to wear that day was still in Anissa’s bedroom. I didn’t really relish the thought of putting the damp two-piece back on, but the alternative was wandering around in only a bath towel or hiding out until Anissa came looking for me.
I turned off the water and pulled back the curtain. My shower had been hot and the mirror over the vanity was steamed over. A t-shirt and sleep shorts were waiting for me on top of the pedestal sink. Anissa had brought me pajamas. I breathed a sigh of relief at the normalcy of the outfit. She could have set anything out for me—a silk teddy; a giant nightgown. Maybe the bikini had been punishment for rejecting her in Philadelphia and all was forgiven now.
I toweled myself off and pulled on the clothes Anissa had laid out for me. Not having a hairbrush, I ran my fingers through my damp hair. I normally didn’t wear much makeup, but I still felt a little naked without at least my mascara and foundation.
I padded out of the second bathroom and into an empty hallway. I stood for a moment, just listening to the silence. There were no more joyous, carefree shrieks coming from the backyard. No monotone baseball announcer calling balls and strikes on the radio. A strange feeling settled into the pit of my stomach. I was completely alone with Anissa.
The door to her bedroom was open; I hazarded a quick glance inside, but saw no sign of my hostess.
My feet were silent on the carpeted stairs as I descended to the first floor.
“Anissa?” I called.
“Back here,” I heard her velvety tone.
Floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I made my way back to the kitchen and family room combo. Anissa stood behind the kitchen island like a bartender waiting on my drink order. That decision had already been made for me, however. Two stemless wine glasses sat on the granite countertop. They’d both been filled halfway with white wine.
I’d seen her in professional attire, I’d seen her in a bathing suit, and I’d seen her in pajamas. Of the three options, I discovered I preferred the latter. Could a t-shirt be considered sexy? If so, she’d somehow managed to do it. The scoop necked t-shirt left her clavicle exposed. The thin material clung to the generous swell of soft breasts. Her naked shoulders suggested she wasn’t wearing a bra. The shorts she wore fit more loosely than when she’d worn my pajama bottoms, but they still left plenty of tan leg on display.
There was something unquestionably appealing about a beautiful woman stripped down to the basics—no makeup, no fancy clothes or jewelry, her hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. I would Netflix and chill with this woman any day.
“Thanks for the pajamas,” I said.
“You’re very welcome,” she replied. “I would have waited until you were done with your shower, but I realized too late that I hadn’t actually gotten you any clothes to change into.”
“You were so quiet, I didn’t even know you came in.”
“I didn’t peek,” she promised.
“Are you sure about that?”
I saw the blush form first on her neck. I wanted to keep making her blush.
