"At least I woke up first" she thought to herself as she gathered her various belongings that were haphazardly scattered around the room. "Thank GOD I woke up first!" she amended her statement with a slight shake of her head. She grasped tightly at the sheet she wore around her body feeling somewhat embarrassed about the morning light coming through the half drawn curtains. While the chiffon layer that always seems present in the finer hotel chains (or even dumpy ones like this) was drawn, Donna couldn't help but feel somewhat on edge about the possibility of being seen in this room, not to mention being seen by the occupant. With that thought she turned and glanced at Josh who was still dead to the world in the king size bed. He had his pillow covering most of his head, however Donna could see the contented smirk he was wearing while he dreamed.
She wanted at that moment more than anything to crawl back into the bed and be with him. She wanted so much to resume her place in his arms, her head nuzzled to his body and her hair falling across his chest. He had smelled so, so good. She was familiar with his scent, of course, but never before had it danced in her nostrils for the hours that it did last night, growing stronger and mixing with her own to give her as intimate an encounter as possible. She loved Josh, that was all there was to it and last night should have been one of the greatest of her life. But now, only hours later, it was quickly becoming her biggest regret.
She sighed audibly but not loud enough to disturb the sleeping beauty in the room. She turned and headed for the bathroom, too afraid to dress in front of him, whether he was conscious for it or not. As she pulled on her jeans and t-shirt (there would be time for undergarments later) Donna suddenly realized that she wasn't certain of where she was.
The hotel chain was clearly printed on the small soaps and shampoos throughout the bathroom, but being from out of the area the somewhat cheesy sounding alliteration could have indicated a foreign nation for all she knew. "I guess I'll worry about that problem when I get out of the room" she thought to herself. Gathering her hair into a ponytail she took a brief second to study her face in the mirror. She looked worn out. She thought briefly to the moment last night when Josh had asked her to take her hair down. She remembered how his hand felt as he placed it on her left cheek and followed her hairline as he traced his fingers along her neck and shoulder. She closed her eyes momentarily as she tried to recall every second of the heated moment and when she did open them again she noticed the flush in her cheeks and a warm glow painting her features.
The endearing effects of the flashback were brief because as she turned to exit the bathroom Donna realized she would soon have to exit the hotel. She prayed momentarily that she wouldn't see any of Josh's co-workers. It was still fairly early, most of them probably wouldn't be milling around the lobby at this hour but still the idea of running into one caused the pit in her stomach to ache.
There were other reasons for aching that morning as well. As quietly as possible she swung open the bathroom door and made her way to the edge of the bed. Sitting briefly on the end, Donna gazed at the one man in her life who she felt truly was her second half. If she was being honest, it was more like she was his second half. Donna loved being the one to complete the hopeless mess that is Josh Lyman. She loved anticipating his moves and reading his eyes or gestures (she loved how he accused her of reading his mind). She loved being across the room at a party and knowing how upon his entrance he would act confident and prepared, but in the back of his mind he was on guard. She loved that he would glance around the room and upon finding her gaze, immediately walk a little taller, grin a little wider, shake hands a little more vigorously. She loved that after a while of his hobnobbing, Josh would find his way to her side. He would find ways to touch her, either on the arm, or around her waist, or most often placing his palm on the small of her back to walk with her around the room. The two of them would spend much of the evening together, telling jokes or exchanging ideas. Others would join them, they would act focused and attentive to the third party but both would be willing that person to move on, to leave them be to their usual banter. When the event would wrap up, Josh would insist that they do a little bit more work in the office, but the truth would be that he wasn't ready for the night to end. He would untie the bowtie she had worked so hard on and she would pull back her hair or take off her shoes and they would get down to business. By the time he drove her home she would be exhausted, but radiant from spending an evening with him.
She USED to spend those types of evenings with him. Last night, however, had been a different story. The formal event, held at some convention center in the middle of America, was about showing off the respective democratic nominees for the Presidency. She and Josh had not passed the time with banter and jokes but rather spent time avoiding eye contact and awkward encounters. When he first arrived he had approached the coat check just in time to see her removing hers, revealing a sexy little number if she says so herself, and she'd seen him do a quick spin turn into the ballroom, left lugging his coat around for half the night. She would have found that amusing if it hadn't made her so sad. Later she had walked up to the bar not realizing he was two people over and practically spilled her drink dashing away. So now, hours later, how had she ended up in his bed? Donna felt herself tearing up as she thought of the answer.