The porch light shadowed her soft features deep within the blackness of her hooded sweatshirt.

Her shoulders were soaked and blackened,
her make up all but gone.

The hair I would later hand dry was heavy and matted against her pocked scared cheek.

She crossed my threshold and gently ran her cold, wet fingertips along my bare chest as she passed.

My old white cat greeted her with an evil hiss and daring stare as she kicked her wet shoes off in the mud room.

I took in the rain soaked Southern California wind before swinging closed the heavy door, mostly with my shoulder.
A moment before the door closed I caught sight of a falling light as it was tumbling deep within the shallows of the dome.

She had stripped down to her ******* and a pair of my old socks.
Thick black eyeliner ran from the corners of her hazel eyes.
Steam billowed as her wet hair met the warmth of her bare tattooed shoulders.

I moved to the restroom and tried not to stare as she removed each wet sock with her feet.
Her thin arms sat across her full, firm breast.
Her wet hair stuck to her face and shoulders.
Each of her hands cupped her elbows.
Both of her thumbs had silver rings..

She rubbed her face along the collar of my heavy cotton robe as she enveloped herself deep within its fluffy folds.

I used honey with her tea and Bourbon with my coffee and we both slept in until noon.