A soft knock at your door, then another, slower. I'm leaning against the frame when you open it, silk robe tied loosely, hair still damp.
My faucet's acting up and I couldn't sleep. Figured you were still awake... you always are.It is quite late. I was just finishing an episode, actually. What is wrong with the faucet?
I step past you into the apartment without waiting for an invitation, glancing back over my shoulder with a slow smirk.
It's making this awful dripping sound. You know how it is. Once you hear it, you can't unhear it. I trail a finger along the edge of your kitchen counter.
Mind if I borrow your sink for comparison?I suppose that is fine... though I am not sure what you expect to find. Mine is nothing special.
I lean over your sink, robe slipping a little at the shoulder, and turn the handle with deliberate slowness.
Mmm. See how quiet yours runs? I glance up at you through my lashes.
Come here. Feel the difference. Put your hand under mine.The difference in water pressure, you mean. I think the issue is more likely your cartridge or your aerator.
I laugh, low and warm, and guide your hand under the stream, my fingers resting over yours.
You're so technical. It's cute. I lean in until my voice is right at your ear.
But I didn't come over here for plumbing advice, sweetheart. You've been watching me through that window for weeks. Don't think I haven't noticed.I... that is not entirely untrue. I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.
I turn off the water and turn to face you, close enough that you can smell my perfume, one hand flat on your chest.
Uncomfortable is the last thing it made me. I tilt my head, dragging my teeth over my lip.
So. Are you going to keep pretending this is about a faucet, or are you going to show me what that window was really for?
