Room 505

“… Do whatever you want with that info.”

The words are meant for you, but she speaks them out to the moon, the slightly salty night air, the buildings still illuminated well past midnight. None of them are listening. Asa could shout it out at the very top of her lungs, the people on the street below would hear it, as would the nesting birds, and the crashing waves would swallow it up. None of them would truly listen, though Asa would argue that neither would you.

It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself here. Both this place, on this coast, in this hotel, and this position on the bed, facing the balcony, looking out of the open door, at her.

Two events - mutually exclusive - so often crossing paths on the most special of nights. They came thick and fast. Sometimes you would be on your own bed, resting on such familiar comfort, while you stared at her, perched by the window, basking her bare skin in the moonlight. And just two nights later, you would be in her room, on the comfort of her bed, of which you became quickly familiar, watching her on her balcony with little more than her black lace panties keeping her somewhat modest.

The best of them all were always right here in this town, that is nestled between two headlands, with its golden beach and winding trails in the hills. In the daytime, you would wander the quiet streets with her, seeking the next great adventure. And at night, when the town felt almost alive, you’d travel an artery right to the heart of it all. Drink with the locals, dance to live music, and finish the whole thing by collapsing into one another’s arms.

The town nestled itself impossibly between lively and lazy. It was perfect. Far enough away from prying eyes and the stresses of home, yet close enough to make a weekend trip viable.

This day, you were halfway up the hills by midday. Asa’s backpack was small, not particularly practical, and yet she insisted it had enough water and snacks for the entire hike. Of course, she relied on you when she ran out. Her tank top was small, too. A little tight around the stomach. Sodden from the heat, her sweat made it cling to her skin, but the dark green suited her. You stopped just below the top, the breeze blowing Asa’s ponytail around, while the sun reflected in her eyes, the view was too good to pass up. Her cheeks, already glowing, brightened with an even greater blush when she noticed the way you looked at her.

“You should turn around, it’s a view not to miss.” She smiled as she spoke. The view she meant was one of nature, the town below, and the endless sea. Asa knew well that your attention was on a very different vista.

“Already looking at it.” The blush deepened.

At the peak, you ate, drank and rested, lying on a soft blanket you packed, Asa with her head resting on your stomach, looking up into the clear sky, pointing out shapes and animals she could find in the clouds.

“That looks like an otter,” she says, “or a seal.”

“Seal.” You agree. “Look at the tail.”

“That is very seal-like.” She giggles, her chest shaking a little. She shifts her legs a bit, too. The tan shorts were too short to hike, but that didn’t stop her. Asa is Asa. She raises her arm, a little dainty, and her fingers delicate as they point to the next target. “And that looks like Ahyeon. When she’s angry after I ate some of her ramen.” Asa laughs to herself. You barely know Ahyeon, but you’re sure that no cloud could replicate a woman such that you could recognise them, but you allow Asa her moment, finding herself hilarious. “And that one looks like…”

It continues for some time, most of which is nonsense, and a little of it, you can see exactly what she means. By the time the sun is beginning to sink in the sky, Asa has found an entire orchestra, a family of birds, and even some random strangers, but not a single cloud that she would claim resembles you. As she rises from her position, you ask her why. The answer was a simple one: “There are none handsome enough.”

She’s holding a laugh, you’re shaking your head. “Oof, that was bad.”

“I try my best.” She says as she throws her backpack on.

By the time you return to your room, you’ve had enough of the wilderness. A shower is desperately needed. The salt from the sea has settled on your skin. Asa is quick to strip down. Her shorts and top are on the bed. As you grab them, ready to throw them in the laundry bag, your attention is on her, in nothing but a matching purple underwear set, with black accents, a little see-through in all the right places. She’s in the doorway to the bathroom, and she’s watching you, staring at her, as she undoes her ponytail, letting her hair free.

“My back’s not going to wash itself,” Asa says as she disappears around the corner.

You’re smiling to yourself as you slip off your shorts and pull your shirt up and over your head. You drop them in the bag. There is no rush. It’s not like she’s going anywhere. It’s not like the relationship’s on a timer. It’s still young - budding. Truth is, it’s barely a relationship as much as it is a… thing, a very beautiful and sweet thing that has no definition. No need to get ahead of yourself.

When you round the corner into the doorway, the bathroom appears empty. There’s no running water, no Asa in the shower, not even a trace of steam from hot water on cold tiles. You step into the silence. White, pristine, tiled silence.

A sharp breath and outstretched arms make you jump, from behind the door, Asa shouts. It’s not a fearful shout, but it is a loud shout. A loud, playful shout. She knows exactly what she is doing, and you can tell she loves every second of it. You laugh as you wrap her in a hug, almost catching her out of necessity because of the way she throws her small frame at you.

“Hey, you,” Asa says. There is no one word for the smile on her lips, the way her nose scrunches a little, the twinkle in her eyes. Cute, maybe. Beautiful? Perhaps. Or is it all just so… perfect? An almost haunting memory.

“Hey,” you say. Your hand runs up her spine. You take your time to feel every single ridge and every inch of her skin. She’s still warm and a little dirty from the day. Somehow, she’s also soft, like silk under your fingertips; that’s how you’ll always remember her.

“I got you,” Asa says. You can tell she knows, because she’s biting her lip and holding back another laugh.

“Sure did.” You kiss her. It’s soft. There is barely any pressure, no force at all. Her lips are full and, somehow, taste like the cherry of her favourite soda, as if the taste of her was infused by the fruit itself. The tip of her nose presses against you. Your hands reach the clasp of her bra, you pinch, push with a finger, pull the clasp with another. The straps loosen, and Asa lets you slip them away, dropping them on the ground without a sound.

She pulls away, and you look down. Perky, small, her nipples hard, you already know the feeling of them pressed against you.

“It’s rude to stare,” she smirks.

“And to touch?”

She shrugs. “Welcomed.”

Your hands rise to cup them. The flesh is firm, and the buds harden even further as you rub your palm over the left and your thumb on the right.

Her moan is little more than a gasp, a gentle sound, and her lips curl a little. She looks at you, and her eyes sparkle that same way they always did. She steps away from you, her breasts leaving your hands. There’s no disappointment. She’s in full view.

Another step back, another sway of her hips, and another bite on her lip, she slips her fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulls them down. They fall off one foot, and she kicks them away. She’s naked as she takes the next step, which ends with her shoulders against the tiles of the shower.

Your eyes linger, and Asa places the very tip of her fingernail against her collarbone, then runs it down, in a slow, tantalising line. Over her chest, and down her stomach, stopping at the top of the trimmed patch of pubic hair.

“Still rude,” she whispers. You know she’s joking, and you can’t stop a smile from forming, and the laugh from bubbling.

It’s nowhere near as elegant or ceremonious when you drop your own underwear. You do not sway, or tease, or give Asa any kind of show, but she watches as she always has. With eyes wide and sparkling, with her bottom lip pinched between her teeth.

“I’ll wash yours if you wash mine,” she whispers, a little coy. Asa turns on the shower. The water splashes over the tiles, running down the walls in streams. She places a hand beneath the stream. The cold water splashes against her skin, making it twitch, but soon enough the cold fades and the steam rises.

She steps beneath the water and closes her eyes. She lets it soak her body, and you watch her. The droplets of water run down her face and over her body. It drips off her nipples and runs down her stomach. Her hair sticks to her skin, and you can see every curve, every line, every ridge.

Your body’s not moving. You want it to, but you’re stuck in time. She’s perfect. You’ve seen this before. A shower in a hotel in some town far enough away that no one will care. And yet it always feels new. She turns a little, and you watch the mini waterfalls find the paths of least resistance on her back. Down her sides and down the cleft between her ass. You’re hypnotised by it all, until her voice brings you back.

“Water’s nice and warm,” Asa smiles, opening one eye, words drowned a little by the falling water. She opens the second, and looks you over, from your toes, up your legs, lingering over your dick, then your chest, before stopping at your eyes. “Room for two.”

Asa doesn’t wait for you, though she knows you’ll be there, and steps aside. You slip beneath the warm water. It soaks your skin. A warm embrace. The water drips off the ends of your hair, down your face, and your nose. She steps behind you. Her hand snakes its way to your chest, as her other wraps around your waist. A warmer embrace.

Sher rests her head against your shoulder, peering around to eye the way she moves her hand down, to wrap around your cock. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against you. She squeezes you a little. Her hand barely wraps around your cock, and she starts to move her wrist, slow, gentle pumps.

Your head rolls back. The shower rains over your body. Asa’s body against your back. The feeling of her hand on your cock, her fingers barely able to grip all of it. Her other hand traces odd shapes on your chest, a tickle that sends sparks across your body.

“Never get tired of this,” Asa says. She’s breathing heavily. Your eyes open. The ceiling is all that greets you. It’s white, like the walls, like the floor. It’s plain. You don’t spend too much time staring at it, letting yourself imagine her walking up that mountain. Clothes fit tightly to her petite figure. The sweat glistened in the sun. You can’t stop your imagination from wandering.

Asa’s hand squeezes you a little harder. “Fuck,” you let out. Her wrist turns as her hand reaches the tip. She grips tighter as her hand slides down. “Feels good,” you tell her. You know you don’t have to. She’s smiling against you.

“Always does, huh?”

“Yeah.” You’re still looking at the ceiling. “Really does.” She squeezes again. Her hand speeds up. She twists a little more. “Really good.” You’re still thinking of her, the way she was, and you feel the tension build up. Her thumb brushes against the tip of your cock. Your breath shudders, and your head falls forward.

“You’re so hard. Like, harder than normal.”

“Are you saying I have a normal hardness?”

“Well, you don’t always perform to a hundred percent…”

“Hey, fuck you,” you laugh, and Asa joins you, squeezing you just a little harder and speeding her hand up just a little. You reach your arm around and behind. You grab her ass. You feel her move against your body as she continues to stroke you. Your fingers sink a little into her firm, little ass. The angle is awkward, but it’s worth the effort. Asa lets out her own moan as you squeeze. The tension builds.