Factor Fifteen

I’ve never worn stockings before, so I spend twenty minutes in our hotel room bathroom, fiddling with the fastenings.

When I come out, and you tell me that you love me, I tell you to say it again – in Spanish. 

We switch on the television and order room service we aren’t hungry for. You make a joke about answering the door naked.

You say it – in Spanish, and I feel the sunburn kicking in.

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