*Olivia*
The next morning, I awake to sounds coming from the dressing room. No doubt they are preparing a bath for Jack. An image jumps into my mind, an image that I’ve been struggling not to remember: Jack Moondancer stark naked. I couldn’t have chosen a more opportune moment to swoon. Oddly, it leaves me with a bit of dignity. If I spun on my heel and left the room, Jack would laugh at my retreat. And if I stayed, staring him down and trying to shame him into leaving, we’d probably still be standing there. Or worse, I might have invited myself into his bed.
The dressing room grows quiet, and I imagine Jack sitting in the copper tub, warm water lapping at his body. I have an unusual desire to go into the room, lather my hands with soap, and stroke them slowly over his chest and shoulder
