She's not going to say that she knew this would be the day.
But, maybe, she did know after all.
/ / /
Getting up early, shrugging off the heavy arm of someone she doesn't remember, and her feet are bare against this unknown floor.
But there are her boots by the door. And there is her t-shirt (torn but not bought that way), left for dead in the corner.
As her stiff jeans go sliding over her legs, there is a murmur from that bed and the outside world has never looked better and so she goes.
Cigarettes got soaked in beer, still they taste fine on her lips, and only taxi drivers are awake right now.
And Ashley does the walk of shame… but without a bit of shame to be found.
/ / /
An arm goes flying out and heat floods across Ashley's chest and she scowls and blue eyes break past the gray dawn.
Blue eyes, as unsure as a baby's gaze, and Ashley feels the anger just dissipate.
'Coz she can't be mad at innocence. It's too fucking rare.
"Sorry."
"It's fine."
"Let me make it up to you, okay? Please?"
Everything smells like hazelnut now and, for some reason, Ashley agrees.
/ / /
The washer beats out a tune – thump, thump, thump – and there are words to be sung to a sound like that one and Ashley imagines a million drums at her back and her fingers itch to pluck taut strings.
Or to caress the girl sitting beside her, apologizing and offering bottled water.
A girl with blonde hair, corn-silk and honey, blue eyes and sweetness and a spacious apartment.
A girl who just watched as calm as could be as Ashley stripped that soaked shirt away and a girl that handed over a sweatshirt and pushed Ashley onto the couch.
Like Ashley lived there. Like Ashley belonged there.
And maybe she does.
/ / /
"Can I shower?"
"…Sure. Yea, sure."
Not because of coffee, but because of the night before and Ashley wants to start clean – in more ways than one.
There is glass and steel and cotton towels and when Ashley starts to pull down the zipper of her pants, this girl steps in and does it for her.
And it is better than anything, better than nicotine and vodka and bands that play until three in the morning.
"Let me make it up to you…"
Blue eyes burn dark and Ashley agrees. Again.
"Sure… yea, sure…"
/ / /
The tile is cold and the water is hot and Ashley's panting is swallowed up in steam.
And she feels the point where all things swell up, deep in her belly and low on her body, and she rises on the balls of her feet and fists that corn-silk and honey hair… and lets it fall through her hands… over and over until she comes so hard that her head slams back against the wall – and it hurts like hell.
The girl is unmoving inside of her and the other hand is palming upward, teasing orgasm-induced sensitive flesh, finding remnants of pleasure along wet breasts and damp thighs.
It's enough to make Ashley tip over the edge again.
But turnabout is fair-play and her skin will soon wrinkle in this shower and she'd like to see the rest of this place… she'd like to see the rest of this girl, too.
/ / /
The girl has a name and it is whispered into Ashley's ear right before a well-placed knee makes the girl groan.
Now, the girl is groaning and rocking against Ashley's thigh and fingernails are making indentions on all the parts that are usually covered up.
And somewhere in this they start kissing and now they are both grinding fast – slickness for slickness - and what was once washed is now sweaty and binding them together more fully than all the gold rings in the world.
The girl shudders violently and Ashley says that name for all its worth.
/ / /
"There you go. All done and not a bit of a stain."
"Uh, thanks."
"Hey, you could have been angry or something… I might have been in your shoes."
"Well, accidents happen, right?"
"True. Thanks for being understanding."
"Thanks for fixing my shirt."
"My pleasure."
And Ashley hovers by the entrance, smiling in a way she hasn't done in a long time.
"Mine too, Spencer. Mine too."
/ / /
Ashley won't say that this is the day she decided to fall in love with a complete stranger.
But, maybe, it is.
/ / /
::END::