I push on his chest. He backs off right away, steps out of my personal space, and exhales a harsh breath. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, I’ve kinda been waiting for that to happen. It took you long enough to kiss me. I figured you’d have at least tried to make out with me in the car, or go for a boob grab. I just need to use the bathroom.”

“I can come with you if you need help holding something.”

“That’s a nice offer, but I can handle this on my own. I’ll only be a minute.” I pick my purse up off the floor where I dropped it, thanks to the brief hump-off.

“I’ll be waiting.” Randy adjusts his erection, in case I’m confused about what he’ll be waiting for.

I close the door, lock it, and turn on the fan, but it doesn’t work. Damn it. How am I going to be incognito about this if I don’t have a fan? I turn on the water and dump out the contents of my purse. The package of razors is adult-proof, so I have to fight to get it open. I don’t know why they make them so hard to get into.

I finally get a blade free and strip out of my clothes. I think my best plan here is to shave and come out of the bathroom naked. That’ll save me issues with my lack of underwear and ugly sports bra. It’s not my style to be that forward, but I seem to have issues with keeping my lips and other body parts to myself where Randy’s concerned, and we did come back to his hotel room for the express purpose of sexing, so why not be brazen about it?

Randy’s clearly already been here and set up all his stuff. He’s a tidy guy based on the organized line of man products. I take a peek in his small black case, checking for shaving cream. Bingo! He has one of those pint-size travel containers. I shake the contents and squeeze it into my palm. I check out my legs before I lather it on. The old razor I used at the rink has left streaky red marks on my shins.

I’m almost afraid to check out my vag, but she doesn’t look quite so massacred, thankfully. We can turn out the lights (of course), and hopefully it’ll be too dark to see what I’ve done to my legs.

Randy knocks on the door. “Everything okay in there? It’s been more than a minute.”

“Everything’s fine.” I reach over and flush the toilet. “I’ll be right out.”

Two minutes later he knocks again. “The water’s been running for a long time. You sure you’re okay?”

“One more minute!”

I manage to get the right leg done and only nick myself twice. I’m halfway through the other leg when the door swings open.

“What the hell? Is this Groundhog Day?” It’s exactly like the first time we met, except totally different, because back then I didn’t want to have sex with him.

He looks me over. “What are you doing?”

“Performing a voodoo ritual. What does it look like I’m doing?”

I consider covering my nakedness, to be modest, but Randy’s already mentioned he’s a fan of me unclothed, so I don’t bother. He shoves his hand in his pocket and does some rearranging. So I’m thinking the fact that one of my legs is covered from ankle to knee in shaving lotion isn’t a big concern.

“Are you using my shaving cream?”

“Maybe.” I drag the razor up my leg and nick myself again.

“Is this why we stopped at that store?” He gestures to my pile of crap.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you. I figured you’d find a nice, willing bunny and get yourself good and laid last night. The last thing I anticipated was you showing up at my work looking to spend the afternoon naked in your hotel room. My legs were unfit for viewing or touching.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“I assure you, it was that bad.” It wasn’t that bad.

He takes a step closer. The bathroom is spacious, but he’s got long legs, so he’s right up on me. “I’d like to point out that I offered to take you out for lunch; it wasn’t all about getting naked on my end.”

“You’re the one who started humping on me the second the door closed.”

“You’re the one who suggested we come here in the first place.”

“I did not! I suggested a drive-thru!”

He takes the razor from me and frowns. “What’re you doing to my legs?” He touches a spot where blood has welled.

All my parts get excited at the possessive reference. “They’re my legs, and I was in a rush thanks to all your knocking.”

He sets the razor down and he lifts me onto the vanity. The porcelain is cold on my ass. A wave of goosebumps breaks out across my skin.

“What’re you doing?”

“Helping out.” Randy pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor on top of my discarded pile.

His eyes stay on mine as he rests his palms on my thighs, above my knees. I don’t particularly care if we have sex while I’m still covered in shaving lotion, but it’ll be messy. Not that there isn’t a shower right here. His eyes drop, and he gives my thighs a squeeze, fingertips digging in. I check myself out. He’s focused on my vag. It looks fine, no stray hairs making a mess of things.

I have a nice vagina when it’s taken care of. It’s this pretty shade of pink, and only a tiny glimpse of clit peeks out to say hi. When I’m really turned on, obviously everything’s a little more prominent. Like now.

His eyes lift, heavy with lust, or need, or just plain old desire. Any which way I look at it, he’s turned on. The alternative would suck a lot. For a few seconds I think he’s going to drop to his knees and stick his face between my thighs. Which would totally be welcome. Instead, he releases his grip and lifts my shaving-cream-covered leg.