had she done? She should’ve let him go home, while she went on this trip by herself. And now, she’d actually agreed that he could stay in her room. Maybe the next town had available hotel rooms.
She trailed her hand toward the pillow with its ruffled edges. The room screamed romantic interlude. Rose, pink and coral hues covered the walls. Floral patterns were reserved for the linens. Even the ceramic pieces had a whimsical style. Sara surmised that the room was part of a universal conspiracy to entice and keep lovers romantically occupied.
“Hey, what’s on your mind?” Jackson nudged her arm. “Looks like you’ve got the gears cranking at full speed. I promise to be the perfect gentleman. I know this is hard for you.”
Sara couldn’t answer. Her throat ached with dryness, as if she’d run through a desert at high noon. His claim to be a perfect gentleman didn’t quite mesh with the fact that he really did sleep in the nude.
Technicolor images flashed of Jackson naked, buffed and smiling. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her fantasy continued. She was also naked, waiting, expectant, like in the old days. The traitorous thoughts sent scorching waves of desire pouring like molten lava slowly through her entire body.
Her eyes lighted upon Jackson standing on the other side of the bed. He was busy adjusting his set of pillows. She blushed over her secret musings.
“Room seems a little hot,” she complained, pulling at her top.
Jackson shrugged. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over the back of the chair. “Feels good to me.”
“Don’t you dare get into that bed.” Sara raised her hand like a crossing guard on patrol.
Jackson froze in his attempt to climb into the bed. “What now?” His brow furrowed with open irritation.
“You’re going to have to wear clothing.”
“Come on, Sara. You know that I don’t wear anything when I sleep. I can barely stand these pants.”
Jackson always complained to her about wearing pajamas. He’d argue that all of his waking hours were spent in suits or equally restrictive clothes. In bed, he preferred his natural state. She’d preferred it, too, once upon a time.
“Fine. I’ll deal with you not wearing a shirt. But you’d better not take off your pants when you get under the covers, or you’re out of here.”
Jackson nodded and eagerly slid under the comforter. He reached for the remote and aimed it at the TV.
Sara readied herself for bed. The closer the time got to when she actually would have to get in bed, the slower she moved. Brushing her teeth became an examination of her mouth. She even stretched out her tongue, leaned closer to the mirror and searched for anything that didn’t look right. Anything to delay the inevitable.
Eventually she got to the end of her nightly routine. She wished that she could be as calm and relaxed as Jackson, who lay back against the pillows with a hand under his head, watching TV.
She emerged from the bathroom and walked purposefully to her side of the bed. “I’m not watching any sports. And you’ll need to put a pillow between us. Are you still wearing your pants? I have an early morning ahead of me, so you’re going to have to turn off the TV soon.” Sara slid down on her side of the bed, making sure to keep her thigh away from his. The edge of the bed was her moral guide.
She waited nervously to fall asleep. Several times, she held her breath to keep from shifting her position, or to still her restless limbs. Her sorors would never believe that she shared a bed with Jackson and nothing happened. But if he didn’t tell, she wouldn’t, either.
“I just want to see the business section of the news to see how much the stock market went up. After that I promise to shut off the TV,” Jack said. He opened the newspapers, completely blocking her view of him.
“Good night,” she said.
“’Night, Sarafina.”
Sara squeezed her eyes tightly shut, praying for sleep to come quickly. Otherwise, the night
Learning to Kill: Stories