Page 102 of The Man of the Hour

I want you to sneak in while I’m sleeping and have your way with my body.

Opening the door, he walked quietly down the empty hallway.

When he approached the elevator, he continued past it. He found the staircase at the end of the hall and started up the three flights to Sonia’s floor. The stairs were concrete — none of the fancy carpeting from the hallway — and the stairwell was gray and echoing.

He heard the laughter first, hushed and urgent. Rounding the next flight, he saw a man on the landing, leaning against the wall, his floppy blondish hair half-hiding a look of pained ecstasy, and a woman kneeling in front of him, her blue-streaked ponytail bouncing as she gave him head.

Brendan coughed loudly and flung his arm over his face. “My eyes.”

“Oh, shit!” Hunter yelled, scrabbling at his fly.

“What? Oh my God.” Marissa leapt to her feet. “Zip up your pants.”

“I am zipping up my pants,” Hunter protested.

“Do it faster.”

Brendan clucked his tongue, trying not to laugh. “Get a room,” he said, edging past them.

“We can’t,” Hunter began. “That’s the thing. She’s sharing a room with that girl who giggles a lot…”

“Janelle,” Marissa told him.

“Right. And Keith sleeps like a log, but she’s sure he’ll wake up…”

Shaking his head, Brendan continued up the next flight of stairs.

“She didn’t want anyone to see us,” Hunter called, sounding plaintive.

“Pleasedon’t tell anyone,” Marissa added.

“I won’t,” Brendan said. But he couldn’t resist calling down, “Hunter, make sure Marissa has a good time too, ’kay?”

As he rounded the next flight, leaving them below, he heard Marissa whisper, “Was that Ian or Brendan?”

“I’m not sure,” Hunter whispered back.

*

Sonia’s key card slipped into the lock with a softsnick.But the light flashed red, and her door refused to open.

Brendan’s heart sank. Was Sonia’s invitation an elaborate prank? Or had he mixed up the keys? Maybe he had the wrong room.

He checked the number on the door — 587. Taking a deep breath, he tried the key again.

This time, the light turned green. The lock opened, grinding faintly when Brendan rotated the door handle.

Stepping inside, he closed the door cautiously behind him. A narrow gap of light shone between the curtains, illuminating the dark room.

One red cowboy boot stood by the door. The other lay on its side. Sonia’s faded black denim jacket hung over an armchair. Books were stacked beside makeup scattered on the desk. Candles and an open notebook occupied the dresser. When Brendan walked by, he saw notes for a new dance.

He pressed his finger into the wax of one of the candles. Still warm, it gave off the same spicy scent as Sonia’s perfume.

Moving stealthily to the bed in the center of the room, he looked down at Sonia, who was fast asleep on her back. One arm was flung above her head, the other curled on her chest. She looked younger and more fragile in her sleep. Her short dark hair was messy, sticking up in little tufts.

Brendan stared at her thick lashes, her full lips. The covers were primly pulled up to cover her chest. Her bare shoulders hinted at nakedness.

Did she really want him to enter her like this? Unconscious, unaware?

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