Sailor’s phone buzzed on top of the dresser. I wanted to know who it was, to sit forward in bed and peer up over the dresser…but I stayed my curiosity, and laid still. Then I heard the light touch of her naked, hurried footsteps against the smooth wood floor of the corridor. I laid my head back into the pillow, trying to reproduce the position I’d been in before. She ran in with a dress in her hand, which she placed down on the dresser, exchanging it for the phone.
“Hello?” she asked, and paused. A man’s voice sounded from the tiny speaker. Her body relaxed; she sank into one hip.
I opened my eyes completely. I could see the curve of her spine in the lamp light. I looked more intently. I could see that her tattoo was a single picture, although the detail was so subtle, the light in the room so low, that I couldn’t make out the image.
“P.” She said, “I know. I’m coming.”
She shifted to the other hip. There was a softness, a sensuality to her movement. I stared.
Then she didn’t move. She stood there naked, stock still, with the phone to her ear, listening, in exquisite, erotic stillness.
(Back Door: Enter “Motionless” into the search bar.)