Saturday.

Waking up holding Layla easily ranks among your all-time top ten types of weekend morning.

It's early when you both haul yourselves to the shower; your roommate's still in bed. You help wash each other's backs, but otherwise mostly keep your hands to yourselves. As you work on coffee, you spot Layla in the living room retrieving her top. "Leave it off," you call over. "Shorts too." You don't look, but you can hear her rolling her eyes and smirking.

With life-sustaining nectar in hand, you finally spend some time catching up on your lives. Layla tells you about her job at the fine arts museum, giving tours; she always wanted to work there, since you met, and you can see how happy it still makes her. She tells you about Marcus, how well he's doing.

As she glances down and finds her cup empty, she almost looks a little sad. "I should get going."

You give her an understanding nod. "Yeah, 'course. But hey, don't be a stranger, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

She seems cheered. "Yeah, totally. We should do this again."

It doesn't take her long to collect her stuff—she didn't bring much. "Gonna let me put my clothes back on now?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

You think for a moment, then shake your head. "Nah, you can go home naked."

She sighs wearily, but there's a hint of a smile on her lips. "Por supuesto."

With her shirt and shorts in one hand and her phone and keys in the other, she heads for the door. You follow along to see her out, marveling at how incredible her new ass looks while she walks away. As she steps out into the building entryway and opens the front door, morning sunlight frames her in all her naked glory.

An impulse strikes. "Hey."

Halfway onto the front step, she stops and turns around. "Yeah?"