The Beginning

Ch. 58 - The dress

In three long strides, he is across the room, his grey sweatpants giving hints of what lies underneath. "Could you come later, please?" he speaks through the door to the unnamed hotel employee on the other side. "Thank you." He turns to face Sandra, who is now sitting up completely in his bed.

"Why were you in that chair?"

He stretches his fisted hands up high above his head in a 'V' formation. "Good morning. How ya feelin'?"

"Depends. Why were you in that chair? And...where's my dress?"

"Right, we need to take care of that still. I'll call the front desk."

"Take care of what?"

He strokes his chin and glances toward the bathroom. Following his gaze, she sees her black dress in a heavy heap on the floor.

He had only seen her drink that much once before: the night she confronted him for avoiding her on set. Still, it took him a minute to recognize she was tipsy. This time she was decidedly less angry, but just as defiant and confrontational. He'd set her purse on his counter and excused himself to rinse off the sweat from the hot stage lights. Removing his torn jeans and damp, navy tee, he stepped under the needles of hot water in his shower and stood for a few minutes, letting the heat relax his muscles. Steam thickened the air as he closed his eyes and let the water stream down over his head.

She was surprisingly stealthy, opening the bathroom door without a sound, slowly peeling the shower curtain back and stepping into the tub.

He almost questioned his sanity when he felt the pads of her fingertips pressing into his sides and pushing forward until they wrapped well around his stomach. Wiping water from his eyes, he looked down to see her hands...and the black sleeves of her dress still adorning her arms. He grinned, setting his hands onto hers and bringing one to his lips.

"What are you doing?" he asked, turning to confirm he wasn't crazy.

She was definitely real and she hadn't even stopped to take off her dress. Water pelted the dark cotton, leaving an even darker map of where it hit the cloth as it began to cling to her flesh. Somehow, the outline of her curves formed by her wet dress was even more sensual than if she had nothing on at all. Did she know the effect this would have on him? Her assertiveness surprised him, thrilled him.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she teased, pressing her fingers up toward his chest.

A bloom of color crossed her cheeks as the steam surrounded her. It's the same shade on her cheeks after we...well, after, he noted, suddenly aware that he'd have a hard time hiding his feelings while in such a vulnerable state.

As she watched him slick his wet hair back, a devilish look clouded her eyes. She grasps the body wash, squeezing a long, white rope out haphazardly onto his chest.

He looks down at the mess on his skin and all over the tile behind him, his mouth falling open. "You...just did that."

"I did."

"I can't believe you just did that."

"Believe it."

Eyebrows raised, he plants his hands on her hips. His eyes have a devilish glint and his grip is sure.

"You wouldn't," she challenged him.

"Oh, I would. You better apologize," he warned with a grin.

"For what?"

"You better apologize."

She shook her head defiantly.