Offer them a hot beverage

“There are some stools over at the far wall. Feel free to move around anything in here. You are the only guests this week.” you tell Jean, stepping toward the double doors. “Would you like me to bring up some hot coffee or tea so you can get started right away?”

“I’d love some breakfast tea,” Lily brightly replies, “and mister grumpy here like green tea, if you have it.”

“Of course, give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right back with some.” You turn back to both of them, gesturing to the spacious loft. “Feel free to get changed and dry off right here where it’s warm. Once I bring the drinks up, I’ll haul your luggage straight over to your cabin so you don’t have to step back out into the rain.”

Jean nods absentmindedly, already engrossed in the storm beyond the glass, his long, lean frame silhouetted against the dark mountains. Lily smiles, giving you a warm, appreciative look as you head down through the double doors.

A few minutes later, you return holding a tray balanced with a steaming hot water, tea sachets, and two mugs.

You approach the heavy double doors of the loft. You rap your knuckles against the wood. “Got the tea,” you call out through the door.

“Come on in! It’s open!” Lily’s voice carries brightly from inside.

You push the door open with your shoulder and step through.

Lily is standing near the center of the room with her back completely turned to the door, stepping out of her wet clothes. Her yellow floral dress lies in a damp puddle at her feet. She has already pulled on a pair of small, thin silk loungewear shorts that cling low on her hips. Her torso is bare, her spine supple and exposed as she lifts a dry towel to dab at her wet hair. From behind, the smooth curve of her back, narrow waist, and tight shorts leave little to the imagination, though her chest remains hidden from view. She makes no rush to cover up or turn around defensively at the sound of the door opening.

Across the room, Jean sits perched on the edge of a bench near the massive glass pane, his sketchbook resting on his lap. His tall, lean frame is already slouched into a posture of intense concentration as his charcoal pencil moves rapidly across the page. He glances up at the mist rolling over the mountains, entirely unconcerned by your entry or Lily’s partial state of dress.

Lily, still dabbing her hair with a towel, pauses for a moment as the aroma of the brewing tea reaches her. She drops the towel onto the pile of wet clothes at her feet, lifts a small, light pink silk shirt from the fresh stack of clothes, the white vertical stripes and subtle black piping contrasting sharply with the deep green of the pines visible through the glass. Her bare back arches slightly as she easily slides her arms into the short sleeves.

“Oh, thank you so much, Mark,” Lily says, turning fully around to face you. Her voice is warm and conversational, a bright note against the deep rumble of the storm outside. She completes the fluid motion, pulling the smooth pink and white fabric closed and fastening the a single button right at chest level. She stands in the soft light of the loft, the luxurious silk of her matching pajama shorts, also patterned with the same white stripes and black trim, draping over her petite form. She leaves the remaining buttons undone, creating a deep, relaxed V-neck that reveals the central valley of her chest and the elastic waistband of her striped shorts below.

She steps closer to you, ignoring the scattered paint supplies and Jean’s quiet focus. She reaches for a mug, her gaze shifting to you as she moves.