She leaned against the sink, not looking at him.

“So I was thinking…”

The frosted plexiglass of the shower steamed up while the water running over his ears made everything sound like it was going under.

Sometimes her voice made him think of liquid pouring into an empty cup. But she was searching. Her head went into that tilt it did when she was reaching for the end of a sentence she hadn’t thought all the way through. The silence in between, like now, for her, was like an uncomfortable chair you’re constantly shifting around in.

Sometimes she even lied about things that happened during the day just to have something to tell him at the end. After a while, when he’d spot her eyes making that circuit around the four corners of the ceiling he knew. But he never called her out. Only smiled, nodded, told her she must have had some kind of day.

He watched her head tilt back the other way through the murky glass. Thick, soapy fingers ran over the scar on his ribcage, then touched the one on his shoulder. Her skin was fine and unscored. The white T shirt she was wearing didn’t cover much of her slender legs, one crossed in front of the other. Her dark hair was gathered in a thick twist near the top of her head.

The silence was only a few seconds, but she was riding that tiny river of time like she had a say in whatever way it ended up turning. There had to be a thousand times he wanted to tell her time would twist her into something scored and bruised beyond loving. But who the fuck ever needed to lay that much truth on anybody they were supposed to love?

Her legs looked distorted through the imitation glass but his memory fleshed out his vision with the reality of her skin. His soapy hand moved to his cock. He started stroking and gazed at the half real/half distorted view of her legs. He was going to say something to fill the space but he was getting thick.

She was looking at her feet. Contemplating them like something was wrong with the shape of her ankles.

“Yeah? Thinking?” he said like he was adding to a conversation that actually existed. His cock kept getting thicker. Harder. Her legs. Jesus. Who the fuck was she anyway?

“Yeah. Thinking maybe we could drive up to Julian tomorrow. Walk around. Buy an apple pie. You know how I love it there. Everything is so…green. We could go to that dessert shop you like.”

She was the one who liked the dessert shop. He liked it because they’d sit across a tiny table from each other with their knees bumping and he could watch her push sugary things into her mouth with a plastic fork. Flecks of powdered sugar would stick to her lips and vicious obscenities would ruin his mind. She’d be chewing on something and look up and catch him looking and she’d chew and smile at the same time while the corners of her eyes crinkled and lit up places inside him that never saw light before.

He pulled open the shower door and stood in the open space, openly stroking his hard on while he stared at her legs, starting from her ankles and moving up.

She looked up and caught him. The second she saw what he was doing she averted her eyes like she’d never seen it before.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she said. “I mean really. Can’t you ever take me seriously?”

When she turned to walk out he stepped out of the stall and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back, dragging her into the shower. Her resistance was weak. The spray soaked her T shirt and the dark roast brown of her nipples started to show through the fabric. The big, thick twist of hair on top of her head got wet and sagged.

It was nothing that new, but she had this thing in her wide eyes how she looked at him and he couldn’t understand if it was that she knew his name but didn’t know what he was or knew what he was but didn’t know his name.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around so she was facing the fake glass. He pulled up the bottom of the T shirt and lay the fat shank of his cock between her ass cheeks. Then he reached around her hip and cupped her tiny pussy in his rough, massive hand. Two of his fingers were wider than her slit. He rubbed at her lips. She went wet and whimpered like she was complaining.

“There’s things I need you to understand about taking you seriously.” He curled his fingers up into her pussy, straight into her sweet spot. Behind her he held the end of his cock against her asshole and stroked his shank.

“No. Not there. Never there,” she said. “I just…ride to Julian…”

She was this pure, tiny thing folding into him. He kept grinding the pads of his fingers against her spot. Cock nudging her rosebud and not pushing any harder. Just. Stroking. So. Fucking. Hard.

He was afraid to go inside. Not for ruining her. But her ruining him. He was pumping himself so hard his fist was ramming against her ass and the base of his cock. She whimpered and started to cum, flushing all around his fingers. He punished his cock against her bud and flushed cum around her ring with filth-tainted grunts.

They sat on the floor of the stall with their legs entwined, leaning against opposite walls. Cum and suds swirled around the drain.

“A drive up Julian,” he said. “Could be nice.”

“So green,” she said. “Get a pie.

Dark roast brown of her nipples dotted the shirt. Her eyes cast up at the nozzle like it was about to rain for a thousand years.