gta, from page 14
She took me back to her appartment. The lights were off, and she didn't bother turning them on. Silent, she took off her shoes, left them stranded in the narrow hall, led me into through the kitchen and into the bedroom. Her window was open; a car drove by, and someone was talking in Chinese on the street. She took off her clothes, let them fall in a shadowed pile on the floor. Her face was tilted down, a half-profile soft lit by the window. She stood with her back to me, one shoulder blade visible, and her side, the curve of a hip. I put my hands on her stomach, pressed myself against. I was still dressed; she flinced, involuntary, at the touch of my belt at her back.
"Why are you still wearing clothes?"
"No reason."
"Are you comfortable?"
She turned fully to face me. A warm breath on my neck, the skin and smooth indents at the small of her back, the small brand of her nipple at my chest - all of it the same, exactly,
"Why are you still wearing clothes?"
"No reason."
"Are you comfortable?"
She turned fully to face me. A warm breath on my neck, the skin and smooth indents at the small of her back, the small brand of her nipple at my chest - all of it the same, exactly,