We were still shivering when I opened the door to my place. Skylar came inside with me, but I wasn't sure what to do next. I was afraid she'd be bored in ten minutes. There wasn't a lot going on. Just a studio living area and a bathroom. I didn't even have a television. And despite my effort to make my junk "disappear," the place was still a pigsty.

Fortunately, Skylar didn't seem to mind the mess. She took a seat on my unmade bed and huddled beneath the blanket. With damp clothes, though, one blanket didn't seem like enough. I dug out a second one from my closet and sat down next to her. I draped it over the both of us and took her blue hands into mine.

"You should warm up before you leave."

"You don't want me to stay?"

"Do you want to stay?"

She shrugged one shoulder and kept her eyes on our joined hands. I couldn't figure out what she meant by that. This was all so new to me. Even though I was married at twenty, it was the arranged kind. There was no courtship. Sex was solely about manipulation. And I was the pawn in the game, not the king. It was the only thing my ex-wife gave me that was satisfying in any way. And I was too lonely, inexperienced, and terrified to refuse.

Once she got what she wanted—the key around my neck and what it protected—she pretty much left me for dead. I didn't see her again until our final clash. There was fire, and poison, and the death of the king. As a result, no fairy-male would ever look at her the way I once did—with reverence and longing—because her ugliness, from that point on, would always be plain on her face.

After I escaped, I had the occasional drunken one-night stand, but I can't recall a single name. Like drugs or alcohol—I'm not proud, but I've done it all—sex was a temporary way to dull the memories.

Suddenly, Skylar's posture straightened with a bounce. "Do you know what we need? A shower."

I lifted an eyebrow. That would be totally awesome, but. . . "It's just a stall, and not very big."

With the first blanket still over her shoulders, she walked to the dark room she correctly assumed was the bathroom and flipped on the light. For a moment, her eyes narrowed and her lips scrunched to the side. "We can squeeze in."

"Are you sure? You can go first and I can—"

Before I could finish, she grabbed me by the hands and led me to the bathroom. The blanket dropped to the floor as she started on my shirt buttons. After my shirt fell open, her hands went to my belt and then to the button on my jeans. "Don't be shy," she said as her mischievous eyes popped up to mine.

My pants fell to my ankles and thanks to the water currents, my underwear were somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. While I stepped from my pants and shrugged out of my shirt, Skylar was pulling off her blouse and unlatching her bra. Out bounced the world's most perfect breasts. If I watched their liberation a thousand times, it would have never gotten old.

After casually slipping out of her bottoms as if she were just getting a shower, all by herself, she started the water and ducked behind the glass door.

I couldn't move at first. I was still in shock that she was naked in my bathroom. So I stood there like an idiot, watching her silhouette work the water through her long hair. Her hands started at her roots, eased their way down, and started again when they met resistance. The process required a ton of water and involved every elegant muscle in her body.

Before long, her head popped out of the crack she left open. "Care to join me?"

I finally found the nerve to approach. I knew that I had just been with her. And it was amazing, but this was different. There were lights on and we'd be standing only inches away from each other. So physically, there would be no more secrets. And I had a few burn scars on my calves and a fairy mark that would be hard to explain away. Plus, a shower was something an ordinary couple might share and enjoy. Maybe that's why I felt so out of place.

Upon entry, Skylar gave me a steamy, whole-body kiss. It gave me the confidence to stop worrying so much. "Normal" would come to me with a little practice.

"You are. . ." she pulled her mouth away to say, "So mouthwatering! I can't even control myself. I'm not usually this. . ."

We were kissing again until we bumped against the shower caddie. We knocked off the soap, which knocked down the shampoo, and then everything in the shower seemed to be raining down on us.

Once everything settled by our feet, Skylar picked up the shampoo and I went for the bar of soap. We managed to not collide heads or body parts, and then we started sudsing each other and ourselves. While she was shampooing her hair and mine, I went to work on her nearest, most convenient body parts.

"Do you know you have the nicest breasts I've ever had the privilege of touching?"

"And are you an expert, sailor?"

"I've made a few mistakes." Some worse than others. . .

"Haven't we all? Honestly, though, I'm a little resentful of them."

"Why?" I said with the gall her statement required.

"I was supposed to be a prima ballerina by now. When I was thirteen, I was a leading lady. But, despite the years of toning, conditioning, and rabbit food, Mother Nature kicked in. By sixteen, I was a scenery girl—a tree, a flower, a snowflake, the hefty, background swan that made Odette look like a princess. You get the idea."

"I think you're better off," I said, still working up a soapy lather for the record books.

"You would say that, wouldn't you?"

"Hmmm. . ."

Her arms were bent behind her head, giving me free range to play, but I moved on to her stomach and then her back . . . like a good boy.

"Plan B was concert pianist," she continued, placing her arms around my neck. "Plan C was medical school, and I guess that makes teaching Plan D. I love it, though, so I think I'm where I'm supposed to be. But I'm still considering med school, depending on how accommodating my life circumstances are. What did you want to be when you grew up?"

She took the soap from me and lathered up my chest and arms. "I never got a chance to figure that out." Her hands moved around my shoulders to my back and they continued working their way down. She stopped at the small of my back to re-lather. "I love the water, so—"

"I can tell," she chimed in as her hands snuck to the front of me. In her palms full of soap, she was determined to make everything squeaky clean, all the better for future use. Near future, I hoped, because I was rising to the occasion yet again.

We rinsed, toweled each other off, and with the light tug of her fingertips against my elbow, I bounded out of the bathroom. Then, on my bed, she collapsed on her back with her slack arms beside her head. While her knees lifted and wavered side to side, she gave me a vulnerable stare and a sweet, sexy shiver.

I stared back for a second, wondering what I did to deserve her. Even if she was a gift only meant to last for one night, my life by morning would be a heck of a lot more complete. And I wanted her to feel that way too. I intended to please her more than she had ever been pleasured. When her knees parted, I accepted my invitation, but not the way she expected. I kneeled before her, the goddess that she was, and gave her my offering.

She planted her feet against the mattress to keep still, grabbed handfuls of sheets at her sides, and tried to bite back her lip to control her outcries. But it was a constant struggle. Her tension seemed excessive and cruel. I made it my obligation to rid her body of demons and let her spirit fly. And once I did, she was primed to do the same for me.

I leaned in and fumbled for the lonely, dusty canister of condoms beneath my bed. I realized then how stupid it was for not wearing one the first time. Would my timing—not great—and the ocean be enough?

In all honesty, I didn't even know if it was possible. Historically speaking, we weren't known to "mix." I always thought the hierarchy and the do's and do nots were grossly outdated. There were rules within rules too. And over what was perceived as "pure?" Wars were fought! That was no lie. And now . . . it was all so meaningless.

And that was the extent of my knowledge on the Birds and the Bees with humans.

If my father only knew. . .

And he was more fair-minded than most. . .

So what I'm trying to get across is that "free love" was a mistake, one I would obsess about as soon as the best night of my life was over. But once her arms and legs were around me, her mouth to mine, my aroused body silenced my unease.

Needless to say, we fought a lot of demons that night. There were a ton of them still left in me that would never die, but even my worst seemed sated for a while. And so did hers. Underneath my arm, Skylar fell asleep with her head on my chest, her long hair drying in wild waves all over me.

Other than breathing, I tried not to move. I didn't want to wake her. I was content and relaxed just listening and watching. And I tried my hardest to keep my eyes open. I didn't want to sleep because it would ruin everything. But I was too tired to deny the darkness forever. . . .

Lynyrd Skynyrd. Simple Man (1973).

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