Page 71 of Just Come Over

Six-thirty here, eight-thirty in Auckland. Zora would have the kids in bed. He should’ve called. That would’ve been better. Tomorrow, he’d call.

He was just thinking it when his phone dinged.

A video. His bath, with two candles on the wooden tray, their light flaring on camera, reflected in the black windows beyond. Water pouring in from the high, arched faucet, and a hand, a bare arm draping a towel over the rack. And that was all.

Come on,he typed.You can’t leave me there.

A long wait. Was she doing this now, or had she recorded it earlier?

Now, he decided. Eight-thirty. She would’ve just got the kids to bed, and this was her relaxing time. Her time to take a bath and sit in the middle of his wide, white bed in her shortie PJs, painting her nails with that little brush and blowing on them to make them dry faster.

Another video, and he clicked, breathless as a teenager.

Her leg, sliding into the water, then another one, and the video scrambled, tilted crazily, until she was there. Her hair up in a clip, her bare shoulders. She was lowering herself into the water, he thought, because her face changed, looked surprised, a little alarmed.Hot,he thought, and then it relaxed, and she smiled. And the video ended.

Hell with this. He video called her.

“Hey,” she said, and there was that smile again. “I thought you’d like to know that I’m using it.”

“I’d like to know. You have a face like a Russian princess. I’ve always thought so. Made for rubies and pearls.”

“Mm.” Her smile was looking sleepy now. “Who knew you were so poetic? I love that. Are you missing me?”

“Yeh. I am.” He tried to think what else to say, and couldn’t. He wished she’d move the phone down. How did you ask for that when you’d been with a woman exactly one night? “Come on, baby, show me your tits” was on no woman’s list of romantic phrases.

“I miss you, too,” she said. “I didn’t take a shower this morning, after I got home from the airport, because I smelled like you, and like sex, and I wanted to keep smelling that way. I’m not going to change the sheets for a while, either. I want to smell you on them. I want to smell you onme.”

Bloodyhell.

“And then, of course,” she said, “I had to meet the handyman who was coming to fix the door, so I couldn’t take a shower anyway. Do you think he could smell it on me?”

He couldn’t breathe. “Yeh,” he said, “I expect he could. And that’s not all right.”

“No? What are you going to do about it?”

He wanted to be there. Heneededto be there. He knew exactly what he was going to do about it. Except that he couldn’t. He asked, “What are you doing now?”

“Washing myself.” Her face had gone dreamier. Softer. “Thinking about you.”

“Show me.”

The phone moved down. Not far enough. The swells of her breasts, and a white facecloth moving over them, and down. And, finally, a flash of nipple, like it had happened by accident. It was a good flash. He cleared his throat and asked, “Are you painting your toenails tonight?”

“I will if you want me to,” she said. Back to her face again, and he was glad, but he was sorry, too. “What color do you want me to do?”

“That pale pink you had on the first day. Like the inside of a shell. A secret color, I thought. Nice.”

“Mm. I’ll do that, then. I’ll text you a photo, shall I?”

“Yeh.” He cleared his throat. “Good.” He didn’t have a foot fetish, at least he never had. He just had a thing for her feet. And her breasts. And her bum. And her mouth, which he was looking at now.

“And in a few days,” she said, “you can tell me what color you want, and I’ll do that. Because you asked me to.”

“Because I told you to,” he said.

Some more secret smile. “Maybe so. And you can think about what would happen if you came home right now, and pulled me out of the tub. I’d be naked, and you’d be dressed. Almost like a fantasy. You could think about how I’d look on my knees. You’d be so hard for me to take, but I’d do my best.”

Oh. Bloody.Hell.Her expression was changing, her eyes losing focus, and the image was getting a little shaky. As if the phone were moving, because she couldn’t hold it still. “Is that making you come?” he asked.