Pronebone

It’s the sounds that alert me to activity and through the crack in the door, I spot a large dark-skinned shape bearing over a shape that is horizontal and pinned to the mattress. A yelp escapes my mouth, but that is because I’m yanked backwards by a strong grip. I’m spun around in the darkened corridor and a hand is placed over my mouth to silence my surprise. It’s Alexander who has yanked me back. He gestures with his mouth something similar to him shushing me, but with a hand on my arm and another on my mouth, he cannot completely do the gesture. I nod and he pulls me back slowly. Once we are back to the space where the dining table is, he removes his hands from my body.

“I’m guessing our fourth cabin mate is here,” Alexander comments.

“Yes. And I’m guessing she didn’t survive Victor’s charm,” I add. “Then again, it didn’t look like she wasn’t enjoying it.”

“I can imagine. They might know we’re back, but since it sounds like they’re going at it, I’m guessing they don’t care,” he suggests.

I add, “Or they’re even welcoming an audience.” Alexander gives me a look as if he is impressed by my suggestion.

“Well, let’s assume those two tolerate each other enough to stay in that bedroom. And we can get a headstart in unpacking and filling up the dresser upstairs,” Alexander suggests in return. Before I can carry any bags up the stairs, he gestures that he’ll bring both my bags as well as his.

For the next twenty minutes or so, we fill up the provided space with our respective items, down to the needed toiletries. I myself set up what little makeup I have on the upstairs desk with a vanity mirror. I wonder what is provided for the room downstairs. As I begin this reverie, at the same time, sorting my makeup on top of the desk, I feel large hands on my shoulders, the grip firm, the thumbs of these hands pressing into the flesh of my back. I groan from how relieving this feels. The deep penetrating gesture from whose hands I assume belongs to Alexander, slowly lets up. I open my eyes to see this tall, dark, broad-shouldered man in the vanity mirror, a smug grin on his face, probably satisfied that I’ve received his surprise massage with no protest.

“Putting on more makeup, Charlene?” he asks. “You still look as stunning as I saw you the first time.”

I push myself up on my feet and notice something different about Alexander. He’s wearing a different outfit.