Page 12 of Bound By Fire
She turns to look up at me with her mouth open.
“What? Really? You look like you have lots of sex.”
I laugh. It feels good. “You look like you have lots of sex too.”
“I don’t.” She giggles. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Noooooooo.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“You’re younger than me. I’m about to cradle snatch. I’m nearly thirty-eight.”
I chuckle. “That’s hardly cradle snatching. I think we’re okay.”
“You look older.”
“Geeee…thanks.”
She laughs. “I mean, you look great… I don’t mean it like that. You look good.”
“You look good, too, for an old lady.”
She gasps.
“I’m kidding.” I squeeze her hand.
We start walking again. She seems to turn it over in her head for a while.
“I guess I’m a little nervous,” she finally admits.
“You don’t have to be.”
“I haven’t gotten naked in a good, long while. I’m rusty,” she says.
“I’m pretty sure that sex is like riding a bike.”
“Hot and sweaty.”
I laugh again. It must be a record. “No. You don’t forget how to do it.”
She snickers, making a snorting noise, which is cute.
We turn onto a street lined with young palms and low apartment buildings. She points at a cream-colored block with a glass front and big planters full of bougainvillea on either side of the doors.
“This is me,” she says.
It’s nice. Newer than most of the buildings on this end of the island, with a small lobby I can see through the glass. She taps a key fob against a panel, and the door clicks open.
Inside, the lobby is all pale tile and low lighting. There’s a security desk, empty at this hour, and two elevators off to the left. She leads me to the second one, punches the button, and the doors slide open almost immediately.
“Fourth floor,” she says, mostly to herself, as she hits the button.
The ride up is short. She looks at me. I look at her. She chews the corner of her lip and then looks at her shoes. I can hear her heart speeding up.
“I’m still a little nervous,” she admits.
