He wakes up slightly shaken from a bad dream. He rubs his head. Twenty nine years old, short hair, powerfully built, unquestionable charm, good looking in spite of the scars here and there. The alarm clock is ringing. It’s in two in the morning. He grabs a cigarette and stops to look for a light. He shuts off the alarm. He hears the sound of the shower running.
She is soaking wet, her teeth chattering from the cold. He wraps her in an blanket and vigorously rubs her back. She warms gradually and snuggles closer to that warm comfortable shoulder. His rubbing slows, looking more like a caress. They both look embarrassed. The intimacy makes him nervous. He looks for a diversion. He pushes a button on the coffee machine. She looks back to him fumbling for honey and smiles. He holds up the jar of honey. She innocently sticks his finger in the jar then puts it in her mouth.
She savors the honey, slowly; sensually. Her lips shine with honey. Her eyes narrow with pleasure. He is hypnotized by her, like a moth attracted to a flame. He begins to lose control, which again makes him nervous. An indistinct sound comes from the wall. But he is so entranced with the sight of her licking her honeyed lips, he doesn’t hear it until it’s too late.