Deeds of Deceit

Bay-bay hadn’t frozen to death. He was trying to listen to sounds over the spray of the shower. He had to stay alert. They were vulnerable in the shower. Meth-heads don’t feel the cold, and they’d be back.
“You’re awfully quiet, Skip.”
“I’m listening for sounds. I can only handle one crisis at a time.” As he’d become warmer, he was aware of how good she felt pressed against him. The spray of water hit her and ran down her shapely curves. She was soft, wet, and naked, and he was running his hands down her back to create friction and heat. She breathed normally, and her stance was steady. At that moment there was nothing more important than the fact that they’d made it so far. His body and hers were still in this world. It was just them, standing beneath the warm spray. She was beautiful but had always been trouble. In the glow of the double flashlights, her hair hung in wet ringlets. When she moved, he couldn’t help but admire the curve of her back and perfectly formed buttocks. Watching her firm, perky body shift in slow movements caused his blood to heat. He inhaled and willed himself to stay calm because his bodily response was becoming powerful. He moaned at his weakness which he knew was Bayliss. With other women, he’d always been the aggressor. Around her, he was chicken-shit. Whatever kind of chemistry it was, his body told him he needed to have her or die. He’d gotten as hard as a railroad spike.