Chapter 7

I wake up to the sound of the running shower. The spot next to me is empty once again. I don't know how Nicole keeps managing to climb out of bed without waking me up; the cats will routinely rouse me from deep sleep just by jumping on the bed and parking themselves between my feet.

I blink the sleep out of my eyes and check my watch. It's seven thirty in the morning, and I have a good four hours before my flight leaves from San Francisco International. Once again, I have a hangover, but this one is not nearly as bad as the wine-induced hangover from the night before last. Liquor doesn't get to me nearly as much as wine does. I climb out of bed with a little groan and toddle over to the open bathroom door. The steam from the hot shower has filled the bathroom and fogged up the mirror. The shower stall has an actual sliding door, but it is transparent, and I can make out Nicole's slender form behind the foggy screen. I slide the door open and step into the shower, only to yelp and take a little jump backwards.

"Damn! You like your showers hot, don't you?"

Nicole laughs as she turns around to face me, wiping the water out of her eyes with both hands.

"Yeah, the water heater in my place is busted. I only get to take lukewarm showers most of the time. When I get to shower somewhere else, I turn it up hot enough to last me for a while."

I tippy-toe back into the shower, gradually acclimating myself to the hot water. The shower stall is cavernous, obviously designed with wheelchair access in mind, and the two of us could run laps in here without bumping into each other. Nicole steps aside to let me have access to the shower head, and I rinse myself off with the steaming water. I lather and rinse a few times, enjoying the heat and the feeling of the water running down my skin. Nicole lathers her hair with both hands, and I cannot help but enjoy the sight of her taut and lean body glistening with wetness. After a few moments of observation, I give in to temptation and reach out to pull her wet body against mine. She responds to my kiss without taking her hands out of her hair. I run my hands down her slick backside, and my cock goes from semi-erect to full hard-on in about three seconds. She looks down when she feels my hardness prodding her abdomen.

"My, my," she smiles. "It looks like you're just about ready for action again."

"It would seem that way," I reply, and kiss her again. She reaches down and wraps her hand around my erection.

"Don't ever take Viagra," she says as she begins to stroke me slowly. "You'd be a force of nature."

I want to give her a smart-ass reply, but somehow my thought processes are disintegrating under her firm and gentle caress. Instead, I grab another handful of taut butt and lean in for another kiss. Our tongues meet once again, swirling around each other, and she sucks in my lower lip to give it a playful bite. Soon, we have worked up plenty of steam again, and she lets out a sigh as I run my hand between her soap-slick legs. My fingers find the now familiar territory of her sex. She parts her legs slightly as I run two fingers between her labia, spreading her ever so slightly. I find her warm and wet again.

Nicole breaks our kiss, turns around, and bends over to grab hold of one of the handrails on the wall of the shower stall. She reaches behind herself, and her hand finds my aching erection with uncanny accuracy. I step behind her and bend my knees to get my cock lined up with her inviting labia. She lets go of me to seize the handrail again, and I push into her, savoring her warmth and slickness once again.

She truly has a lovely backside, and our position is well suited for me to enjoy the view. The warm water running over our bodies adds to the pleasure of the sensation. After a while, she lowers herself to her knees, and we continue our coupling with our knees on the roughly textured tiles of the shower floor. In this position, with the sight of my cock driving in and out of her and the sensation of her glistening backside under my hands, it does not take very long before I feel my orgasm approach once again. This time, I withdraw from her, and she looks back at me in consternation.

"What is it?" she asks, the words coming out as a breathless little pant.

"No rubber," I reply.

She turns around again and pulls me down on top of her.

"If there's any damage to be done, we already did it last night. Now keep going before I smack you."

She spreads herself out on the floor of the shower and opens her legs. I grasp my erection once more and hurriedly slip back into her, bottoming out in one stroke. She arches her back and wraps her arms around my back. I pound into her, driving her across the wet tiles with every thrust. Before long, we are halfway out of the shower, thrusting at each other furiously. I lose track of everything as I lose myself in the rhythm of the act.

Some time later, Nicole lets out a little shout, and she pulls me close to herself to sink her teeth into my shoulder. She shouts again, this exclamation muffled, and her hips jerk up in little spasms. I drive into her with a few more deep strokes, and allow myself to let go. Despite the fact that we have had sex three times already since the night before last, my orgasm feels as intense as if I hadn't come in a week and a half.

I collapse on top of her, breathing heavily, my cock still buried deep inside her.

We lay spread out on the wet floor for a while in this fashion, both of us panting as if we had run a marathon.

"Holy crap," Nicole says. "My eyes were rolling back in my head, I swear."

I laugh and kiss her on the mouth, and she pulls me into her to extend the kiss into an open-mouthed affair.

"Mmmmm," I say. "Thank you for this lovely wake-up call."

"You did most of the work," she replies with a smile.

I brush the wet hair out of her face, and she looks up at me with a content smile. Then she reaches up and touches my cheek gently.

"You're something else, you know."

"So you say." I brush off the remark with a dismissive gesture, but I can feel my cheeks flush just the same.

We finish our shower and split the available towels, leaving behind a small mountain of white hotel towels of all sizes littering the bathroom floor. I get the last set of clean clothes out of my bag, while Nicole slips back into her outfit from last night. I look at the bedside clock and do a little jump. It's nine o'clock--our business in the bathroom kept us occupied for an hour and a half.

"Crap. My flight leaves at half past eleven. I need to get my ass to the airport soon."

"You'll be okay," Nicole says. "It's only thirty-some minutes from here."

"Yeah, but I was looking forward to having breakfast with you before I have to skip town."

"I bet you they have something down in the lobby."

I pack up my bags, which does not take much time at all, as I never emptied them when I arrived. We head down to the lobby, and there is indeed a breakfast buffet set up in the guest lounge near the receptionist. We load up on coffee and breakfast pastries and claim a table. There's nobody else in the lounge; most of the businessfolk are long gone by nine in the morning.

"I really know how to treat my dates to the finest food," I says as she inspects one of the pastries on her plate. It's a Danish of the vending machine variety, not exactly Starbucks quality. She takes a bite and shrugs her shoulders.

"Better than a frozen bagel and instant coffee," she replies. "And the dinner last night was quite lovely--thank you again."

"About last night..." I begin. She reaches out and gently touches my lips with her finger.

"No need to overanalyze this weekend," she says. "I had a lot of fun, and it seemed like you did, too."

I nod in reply.

"There you go," she says. "I wanted it, you wanted it, and we're both adults. We both had fun, and there's no need for vows or promises or anything like that, right?"

"Right," I nod. Back home, I appreciate the rare kind of date who doesn't talk of moving in together after a fun weekend, so why do I suddenly have a mildly sinking feeling in my stomach?

"Still," Nicole says. "If you're ever in New York for whatever reason, I'd love to get together again." She takes a pen out of her purse and scribbles something on a napkin.

"Here's my address and phone number in Manhattan. If I ever find out you've been in town without seeing me, you'll be in major trouble."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I say.

We finish our breakfast, and I toss my bags into the back of the rental. The drive back to Berkeley is strangely serene, the both of us watching the seagulls circling the Bay Bridge in silence. I navigate the Blazer through the narrow and windy upper reaches of Shattuck once more, and we arrive at the house much too early for my taste.

We kiss goodbye and Nicole gives me a short, but intense hug.

"Thank you for a lovely weekend."

"No, thank you," I reply. "I haven't had this much fun with anyone in ages."

She smiles and climbs out of the passenger seat. Then she walks around the front of the car and leans into my open window to give me a final kiss.

As she walks back to the house, I call after her.

"Nicole!"

She turns around and stops in mid-stride.

"Let's not make it another fifteen years until the next time, okay?"

Nicole smiles and raises her hand to shield her eyes from the morning sun.

"Yeah, let's not," she replies. "You know where to find me. Don't be a stranger, Frank."

I drive back to the airport with my foot firmly planted on the accelerator. The lengthy breakfast has shortened the morning considerably, and when I arrive at the gate after turning in the rental on the other side of the airport and running the TSA gauntlet, the flight is already boarding. The flight is full, and all the overhead bins are jam-packed, so I have to wedge my carry-on underneath the seat in front of me, into the space usually reserved for my feet. Cattle travels in more spacious accommodations.

When the plane lifts off, I sneak some glances of the San Francisco skyline through the window, and suddenly I have a strange anxiety in my chest, as if I have left something important behind. When the beverage trolley comes around, I am tempted to ask for bourbon or scotch or whatever else can be mixed with Diet Coke to produce a buzz, but then I decide against it. It's barely noon, and I don't want to get turned down by the flight attendant and look like a major lush. Instead, I ask for a plain water, and spend the next hour holding counsel with the sun-streaked clouds outside of my window.

The plane arrives in Boston on time. I get off the peon hauler, jog down to the baggage claim to pick up my luggage, and leave the airport and make my way back home on the T. It's late afternoon now, the sun already setting in the sky, and the glass-clad buildings of downtown Boston reflect the sunset in various shades of brilliant orange and red. The Green Line train is crowded with commuters, but I barely notice the people around me as we chug over to Cambridge.

When I unlock my apartment door, I suddenly feel like the loneliest person in the world. Then the two cats come streaming in from the living room to greet me, and I bend down to pet them both. Still, the apartment is empty and dark, and suddenly altogether uninviting. For a moment, I resist the urge to throw down my bags, lock the door again, and head back to the airport for a stand-by slot back to the West Coast. Then I resign myself to reality, close the door behind me, and drop on the living room couch, where I lay on my back and look at the ceiling for a while. The cats join me, happy to have their can-opening space heater pillow back.

I must have nodded off for a little while, because I suddenly startle when I hear a key in the lock, and the apartment door opens. Christie from next door steps in and gives me a cursory wave when she spots me on the couch.

"Hey. Have a good trip?"

"Yeah," I mumble in response as I sit up. The cats hop off the couch to greet Christie. The fickle beasts would make poor guardians, easily bribed with kibble or canned tuna.

Christie drags out the cat food bag and fills the kitty bowls, and the two felines proceed to empty them again with a speed that is just barely on this side of dignified.

"Met an old friend in San Francisco. Had a good time. How was your weekend?"

"Okay, I guess," she shrugs. "I spent Saturday night at Barnes & Noble until they kicked me out. My pothead roomies had a party, and they had the bright idea to do spiked watermelons. You know, cut a hole in the rind and pour in a bottle of vodka? There are melon seeds all over the floor now."

She comes over to the couch and plops herself down on the cushions.

"Plus, someone puked in my goddamn bed. Festive. I told those fuckers that my room was off-limits."

"That bites," I say. "Now you know why most girls your age date guys in their late Twenties."

"Yeah, no shit. My little brother is more mature, and he's in middle school."

"Hang out here, if you want," I offer. "I'm about to order a grease pie and watch a movie. If you want to crash here for the night, you can sleep on the couch. I promise it's not a ploy to get in your pants or anything."

Christie looks at me in surprise for a moment, and then she chuckles.

"You know what? I probably wouldn't care even if it was. I've been hanging out at the coffee place all afternoon to avoid having to go home. Your feet get stuck to the damn floor the second you walk in."

"Alrighty then," I say. "What do you like on your pizza?"

I order a large pizza and a two-liter bottle of soda from the pizza joint down the street. The food arrives in record time; I have been overtipping the delivery guys for months to get to the top of their Good Customer list. Never piss off people who handle your food out of sight. We sit down at the living room table and stuff ourselves with a half-pepperoni-half-Hawaiian pizza, and I let Christie pick something from my DVD rack that's new to her. We watch the Director's Cut of Blade Runner, which she proclaims to be "the shit". When the movie is over, I am not even slightly tired, despite the fact that my day has been artificially lengthened by three hours.

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Michael Lindgren

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