Nancy got up and wondered toward the bathroom, and turned on the shower tap. A sticky bar of soap sat in an equally gross looking soap dish. She ignored this, her hand under the water waiting for the right temperature. Without a glance back, Nancy climbed into the shower.
Crispin could hear the water hitting her curves, and the thought made him grin. With the shower curtain half drawn, he could see brief glimpses – a hand, her ass, her hip. Before long, she stepped out and walked dripping toward him.
“I wouldn’t touch the soap if I were you,” she said, her nose scrunching. She was trying to manoeuvre back into her dress, but it was sticking.
“Want a bit of help?” he asked. She flashed him a smile.
“If you help me, I’ll never get this dress on…”
“What’s so wrong with that,” he said, taking a step toward her.
“I need to get going…” she sighed.
The shower water was still running. He looked at her blank face, and then back at the shower, condensation rising in the air. He went and switched the water off.
“I’ll have a shower when I get home.” He said simply.
She managed to get the dress on, both of them pulling on their shoes, finding missing items, and finally, leaving the room, locking it behind them and handing the key in at the office.
The drive back was quiet. They sat apart, a gulf between them, neither of them saying what they were thinking. The only time one of them spoke was when Nancy asked Crispin what his home address was.
The car screeched to a halt outside Crispin’s apartment complex. The building was grey and gloomy under the darkening sky, and before he could even say anything to Nancy, the car pulled away, leaving him standing on the curb staring at the last view of the taxi’s number plate.
As he climbed the stairs back to his room, the street lights switched on. A deep booming bass rattled around the neighbourhood, the window panes vibrating slightly.
He wondered if Nancy was always this way, or if reality had hit. He had noticed her wedding ring. He felt bad for putting her in an impossible position, but at the same time, she was a grown woman. She had pulled into him. She hadn’t said no.
He sighed. Why was shit always so goddamned complicated? Why couldn’t he find a woman who was free, available and without any baggage? And then he laughed. Baggage. Like he didn’t have any. Maybe they were perfect for each other. She had a secret life, and he, well, he had a secret. And it was probably something she’d never be able to handle.
Letting himself in, he poured himself a drink. Enough feeling sorry for himself. Gina had made it clear that this wallowing business wasn’t going to help at all. It sounded like such a simple thing to say, and such an obvious thing and yet, here he was, reminding himself to get the fuck over this shit. Over Nancy.