Sylvia’s Masterpiece
She felt the warmth of the sun spill over her. She had nothing to hide behind. No battle gear. No war paint. Just her body, naked on the bed, the purple satin sheets and floral print down comforter twisted chaotically and pushed aside from the night before. The sun’s caress was a slow one, a lover who took his time, starting with her feet and working his way up, an exquisite solar massage that pushed every bit of last night’s escapade out of her pores.
She was hesitant to open her eyes. The sight of the light would not be nearly as pleasant as the feel of it. Her hand traced the contours of the bed searching for him, but he was gone. She let her hand rest there for a moment and sighed.
Half of her body ached to rise, and the other half begged to stay. She hadn’t been able to lie like this, to be alone in forever. It was some kind of blessing in disguise that he took his sticks and ran. Now she could just lay here, the heat purging her in a slow, comfortable sweat.
When the sun grew to be too much and the bathroom called to her, she forced open her eyes and let the light fill them. She sat up, and it was slow motion, everything about her moving at half its normal speed. Her hands searched the bed again, this time for her battle gear. She smiled to herself, realizing she might never find something that small amongst all this. It was a little black number. Tight. Accentuated all the right curves. It was one of her favorites for exactly that reason. The boys and girls couldn’t help but stare. But the apartment was empty. The only gaze she had to meet was the security camera outside the main door. Today the heavy breathing was nothing more than the heaving sigh of the air conditioner. With no one to watch her, she didn’t really need the slinky thing. What would be the point?
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