She drove herself home, then spent hours pacing the floor, reading the words on the napkin repeatedly. It was nearly four a.m. when she returned to the Marriott, unsure of why she was really there. After three hours of contemplation, she had simply driven there, partly out of anger...partly out of curiousity. If he thought she was just going to hop into bed with him just because of his celebrity status...well, he had another thing coming. Then again, it was the opportunity of a lifetime, though not because of his fame. She wondered if he did this often. It had been a long time...two years...and this man had awakened feelings inside of her that had been sleeping for far too long. It was, in a sense, perfect. One night, no attachments...simple carnal pleasure. Could she do it? The image of his long, sinewy body, sweat glistened on the dance floor entered her mind. Oh yes...she could definitely do it. He appealed to her immensly...he was after all, a beautiful man. But the simplicity of the situation appealed to her more. She didn't want a relationship...not with anyone.
Her track record with men was anything but perfect...her last three relationships had ended in shambles. It was hard to reach her, she was a private person with no desire to open herself up for anyone. Her refusal to share herself had caused more than enough trouble in previous relationships. A heart broken too many times had left her cold, reluctant to love. But she'd have to be dead to not feel desire. This seemed to be the perfect solution.
Convinced that her mind was made up, she walked confidently through the lobby, towards the elevators. No one stopped her, and the floor was eerily quiet as she stepped off the elevator. She found herself in front of his door, as if her legs had carried her there without her knowledge. Apparently, her confidence had decided to stay down in the lobby. Her hands were shaking. It wasn't too late to go home...she could turn around and walk away...but then the door suddenly swung open, and he stood there. They stared at each other, his hair was dishevled, the red tips sticking up in all directions. His baggy jeans were riding low on his hips, she could see the waistband of his boxers peeking out. Her eyes traveled up the expanse of his naked chest, her lips curved into a tiny smile at the "69" tattooed in black ink around his belly button. He returned the smile with one of his own, then stepped aside and let her in. There was no turning back. His room was actually an enormous suite of rooms, and she stood in the center of the living room area, suddenly very interested in the thick carpeting. He cleared his throat, drawing her gaze back to the piercing eyes that seemed to penetrate her very soul.
Finally, she managed to find her voice, "What do you want from me?," she asked softly.
"Nothing," he replied, crossing his arms casually across his chest.
Her temper flared briefly, "Then why this?," she demanded, producing the napkin from her pocket, "Why did you leave me this?"
He lowered his eyes, then ran a hand through his hair. "Look...maybe I got the wrong idea," he said, "I don't do this often...in fact, I've never done this before. So if I offended you, then I'm sorry." His eyes spoke volumes, she could see that he was sincere. She decided to throw caution to the wind and tell the truth.
"You didn't get the wrong idea," she stated honestly, "I want to know about after."
"After?"
She chose her next words carefully, "I don't want...attachments...no strings. Just you, me, and total unadulterated sex. That's it...no emotional baggage...just physicality. Got it?"
His brown eyes were wide with suprise, but he regained his composure quickly, saying, "Yeah...okay...sex it is then." She frowned in thought.
"Why? Why did you accept that so easily?"
"Could you possibly get any more complicated?," he asked out of pure annoyance.
"As a matter of fact...yes. But I don't think you'd want me to, so tell me why."
He sighed and leaned back against the wall, "I don't want attachments either. I don't need someone asking where I've been if I stay out all night or what I do when I'm on tour. I don't want a committment right now. But besides all that...you just turn me on."
She smiled, "So we understand each other then?" He only nodded, then crossed the room and rested his hands on her shoulders.
"Turn around," he said, "I want to see something."
She did as he asked, wondering what he was up to. She figured it out as his fingers began to lightly trace the outline of the large humming bird tattoo that spanned across her shoulder blades and halfway down her back. "You noticed that huh?," she asked.
"It's kinda hard to miss," he replied, "it's gorgeous."
"Thanks," she said, "it sure as hell better be...I paid enough for it."
His fingers continued to work their magic, rubbing her shoulders, relieving some of the tension there. "Are you tired of talking now?," he whispered in her ear.
"Almost," she answered, "there's one more thing we need to get clear."
"Okay...what?," he asked, this time nibbling on her earlobe.
"No kissing on the mouth."
He stopped what he was doing, asking, "How many times have you seen Pretty Woman?" She could feel his smile against her neck.
"Don't laugh...I'm serious. It's too personal, and I don't want to get personal with you."
He shrugged, "Fine...there are more interesting things to do with your mouth anyway..."
He showed her most of those interesting things for half of the morning. It was exactly as she had thought it would
be...mindblowing. Discovering the tattoos that his clothes kept hidden from the world would always be one of her more
memorable experiences. She dozed off next to him sometime after nine, slipping easily into sleep's waiting arms, a small
smile of contentment on her face.
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