Streaked with marks from his giant hands.
His toothbrush?
A battered blue thing.
Cheap. Chewed at one end.
Rests by the sink.
I trail my finger along the porcelain.
The soap dish.
The edge of his razor.
Let my hunger grow.
My hand drifts to the shower door.
His towel hangs heavy.
Still damp.
Daring me to press it to my face and breathe him in.
I’m stripping before I realize it.
Pink skirt.
White top.
Panties tossed carelessly on the tiles.
I want his scent all over me.
Want to drown in him.
Mark myself with the last thing he touched.
The sweat he left behind.
The shower hisses to life.
Scalding hot.
Steam pours out, swallowing me whole.
I step in.
The heat slams into me.
I moan.
Want tearing through me.
I grab his bar of soap.
Big. Half-melted.
