The Last Room Between Flights

We moved together like that for long minutes, lost in the rhythm of our bodies, the slide of skin against skin. The air around us was thick with the scent of sex, with the sounds of our gasps and moans, with the creak of the mattress beneath us.

I could feel her tightening around my fingers, her body coiling, ready to snap. I sped up my thrusts, my thumb pressing harder against her clit, and she came with a cry, her body shuddering, her walls clamping down on my fingers as she rode out her orgasm.

I gentled my touch, bringing her down slowly, my lips brushing soft kisses against her neck, her collarbone, her chest. When she stilled beneath me, her breath evening out, I pulled my fingers free, my hand coming to rest on her hip.

She turned to face me, her eyes hazy and sated, a lazy smile playing on her lips. “Wow,” she breathed, echoing her earlier sentiment. “That was…”

“Yeah,” I agreed, my own body still thrumming with need. “It really was.”

She reached for me, her hand sliding down my chest, over my stomach, to cup me through my shorts. I groaned at the touch, my hips rocking into her palm.

“My turn,” she murmured, and then she was pushing me onto my back, her body covering mine, her lips tracing a path down my neck, my chest, my stomach.

I closed my eyes, losing myself to the feel of her, to the brush of her lips against my skin, to the warmth of her body against mine. When her mouth found my core, hot and wet and eager, I knew I was in for another mind-blowing ride.

And I couldn’t fucking wait.

I don’t know how long we dozed, tangled together in the aftermath, but when I blinked my eyes open, the room was still dark, the only light coming from the digital clock on the nightstand. 3:47 AM. Sydney was asleep beside me, her head pillowed on my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin.

I lay there for a long moment, listening to the sound of her breathing, the feel of her body against mine. It felt good, too good, and I knew I was in danger of getting too comfortable. This was just a one-time thing, a moment of connection in the midst of chaos, but god, it felt like more.

As if sensing my thoughts, Sydney stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked up at me, her expression soft, sleepy, and I felt something in my chest clench tight.

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice rough with sleep.

“Hey yourself,” I replied, my fingers tracing the line of her spine.

She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. “This was…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Unexpected.”

I huffed out a laugh. “You can say that again.”

“I’m glad, though,” she said, her hand coming up to rest on my chest, right over my heart. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Me too,” I said, and I meant it. I couldn’t imagine sharing this with anyone else.

We fell silent again, the weight of the night pressing down on us. I knew what was coming, the inevitable goodbye, but I wasn’t ready to face it yet.

As if reading my mind, Sydney shifted, rolling onto her back with a sigh. “We should probably get some sleep,” she said, her voice soft. “We’ve got an early flight.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, my throat tight. “I guess we do.”

We lay side by side, not touching, the space between us feeling like a chasm. I stared up at the ceiling, my mind racing, my body still humming with the aftereffects of our encounter.

After a long moment, Sydney spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Germaine. For tonight.”

I turned my head to look at her, my heart squeezing in my chest. “Thank you, Sydney. For everything.”

She smiled, small and sad, and then she rolled away, punching her pillow into shape before settling back down.

I lay awake for a long time after that, listening to the sound of her breathing, the feel of her presence beside me. When sleep finally claimed me, my dreams were filled with the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the feel of her body moving against mine.

The alarm went off at 6:30, shrill and insistent. I groaned, rolling over to hit the snooze button, but it was too late. The spell was broken, reality crashing back in.

We dressed in silence, the air between us thick with unspoken words. When it was time to leave, we stood awkwardly by the door, our bags at our feet.

“Well,” Sydney said, her voice falsely bright. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess so,” I replied, my throat tight.

She hesitated, then stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me in a quick hug. I held her tight, breathing her in, before forcing myself to let go.

“Safe travels,” she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“You too,” I replied.

And then she was gone, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

I stood there for a long moment, the silence of the room pressing in on me. Then I shouldered my bag and headed out, the plastic room key a heavy weight in my pocket.

It wasn’t until I was on the plane, the city shrinking below me, that I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. I scrolled through my contacts until I found her name, my heart pounding in my chest.

I typed out a message, deleting and retyping it half a dozen times before finally hitting send.

"Can’t stop thinking about you."

I waited, my breath caught in my throat, for what felt like an eternity. And then my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with her reply.

"Me too. Next time you’re in town…?"

I grinned, my heart soaring, and typed back, "Try and stop me."