The Bar

She had a ring on her finger. Her left ring finger. It was undoubtedly a wedding ring. It glittered under the soft overhead light of the bar. Each movement of her hand as she turned her glass around, stirred her drink, or placed the glass to her lips threw glitters of light toward him. He watched her smile and chat with the bartender. A few times their eyes met, and they would smile at each other, but neither of them would look away.

He watched her. Nothing else was granted his attention. The bar was mostly empty, as hotel bars usually are on weeknights. His dinner, half eaten, had been pushed aside when she appeared. She had ordered a silly looking mixed drink, he couldn't tell what. He watched as she nursed it, barely drinking anything each time the glass touched her lips. Her lips... She wore no lipstick, no makeup at all from what he could tell, but her lips were a soft pink set against the creamy white of the rest of her face. He found himself jealous of the glass she was drinking from.

The light from her diamond ring bounced around the room, as if she had a disco ball strapped to her hand. It must have been a massive diamond, but he couldn't see it well from where he sat. He was facing her, on the opposite side of the U shaped bar. The soft beat and the slow sounds of the jazzy lobby music echoed around them as the bartender washed glasses seemingly oblivious to what was transpiring between them.

The eye contact, the way she squared her shoulders and leaned toward the bar as she tried to suppress a smile all told him she wanted something. He wanted to look into the dark wells of her brown eyes, and let the power of her gaze melt him into nothingness. The attraction he felt was so intense that he found himself on his feet and moving toward her before he could string the thoughts of doing either together. She watched him walk around the bar, and turned in her seat to face him as he approached.

"My name is Ryan."

"I'm Desiree"

Nothing more was said until they had left the bar together, left the hotel, and were walking in the cool air of the evening. The garish light of the street lamps burned away the mystery of the evening.

"You're married?" Ryan asked.

"Yes. You are too" Desiree replied.

"May I see your ring?" he asked.

She stopped, turned to face him and offered her hand. He held her hand gently, the shock of their first contact made them both stand straighter. He couldn't see her ring in the dark, but he held onto her hand nonetheless. She made no effort to break his grasp.

"It's not real," She volunteered, "The stone is a fake, my husband is very frugal, and I didn't want something so vain."

Ryan hummed his agreement.

"I love my husband..." she quivered as the words slipped from her lips. Ryan could almost see them fall limply from her mouth. She held her mouth open, perhaps because she wanted to say more, but no other sounds emerged.

The moonlight made her fair skin glow against the background of her dark hair, and Ryan sank into the brown sea set in the whiteness of her eyes. He offered his own confession, his final act before he drowned.

"I love my wife..."

She took her hand back slowly.

"I've never felt this before" they both thought silently.

Ryan spoke, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,"

Desiree chuckled. Then she reached for his hand, and cautiously led him to a dark corner.

"No sex," she whispered to him. She laid out her boundaries. "I want to kiss you, I want you to touch me, but this is insane..." She pulled him toward her as she backed against the masonry wall of the alley.

"It is insane... but I want to know what your lips feel like against mine more than anything I've ever wanted," he blurted out.

With that they both laughed a little.

"I've never felt anything this intense," She said. "... Kiss me, gently"

Ryan wrapped his arms around her waist, he closed the gap between them, nuzzling her cheek before he pressed his lips onto hers. The sparks could have powered the entire world for years as they explored each other. They kissed again, and again, gently pulling at each other, giving, taking, and sliding against. She pulled back,

"You're a good kisser... and that doesn't help!" She pushed him back a little to give herself space to think. She shook her head. "I'm not drunk, I'm not lonely, what the hell is this," Ryan offered her an answer.

"This is passion," He whispered into her ear. "Crazy, nonsensical, risky passion."

She stepped away from him, back toward the lights, back toward the hotel. Ryan followed a half step behind her.

"Are we bad people?" She didn't expect an answer.

Ryan watched her hips sway as she walked. He could smell the perfume she had worn earlier, he watched her hair bounce along with her steps. His infatuation grew more and more intense, until he couldn't control himself.

"Follow me," He said. He led her through the lobby, to the elevator, and to his room. Desiree dutifully followed.

He started the shower. Desiree stood in the door of the bathroom, silently. She couldn't look into his eyes anymore. It was too much. She wanted to control herself, but this stranger had something she wanted, badly. She felt helpless.

He undressed and stepped into the shower, She didn't. She stood frozen trying to decide between the insanity of what she was considering doing, and what she thought was right.

"Are you on a business trip?" He called out. This broke her trance.

"Ye-ah..." She replied.

"Me too..."

The door to the shower opened, and Desiree stood before him, bare. She stepped onto the wet tile and closed the door gently.

"No sex, no more kissing, just let me wash you?" he asked.

She couldn't offer her consent in words, but she turned her back towards him, surrendering to his will, hoping he would break every boundary she had emplaced so she could let go of the guilt that was starting to bubble upward in her stomach.

But, he didn't take from her. He touched her smooth skin gently as he soaped her body. Ryan washed every part of her, caressing her, massaging her muscles. With each touch she felt more and more relaxed. By the time he had finished conditioning her hair, she was at ease. They giggled at the absurdity of their circumstances as they told each other about their lives over the noisy splashes of the water. She felt alive, invigorated by the freedom she had allowed herself to have. A warmth had taken root where the guilt had been.

"Come here, let me clean you," She said softly, as she looked into his eyes. Ryan handed her the bar of soap from the tray. She took it, and placed it in the corner of the shower. She knelt before him, the warm water splashing around them both as her dark brown eyes looked upward at him.