The candle sat in the middle of the small wooden table. Its flame moved slowly, throwing soft gold light and long black shadows across the room. Rain hit the window in a steady rhythm. The air smelled of warm wax, wet clothes, and the heat coming off two bodies that had been too close for too long.

Elena stood with her back against the closed door. Her blouse was already open at the top. The white lace of her bra showed clearly. One strap had slipped down her shoulder. Her boobs rose and fell with every breath. She had come to this rented room only to talk. She had stayed because of the way Marcus looked at her mouth.