You have an idea.

But I do have an idea.

A pair of keys falls to the floor at her feet; she stoops down and picks it up.

His apartment's number 907.

That would be trespassing!

And sneaking in from the balcony wouldn't be?

Point taken. But I have to get dressed first.

She walks into the bathroom, smelling her fingers as she goes. Then she turns on the water and lets it warm until it's steaming slightly, breathing deeply as the moist air enhances the fragrances she's smelling.

So you don't want to suck it, but you want to smell it?

I don't like having things put in my mouth, especially not sex things.

But it's okay if you do it?

She responds by sucking her fingers. The sweet and sour musky taste is like gourmet to your palate. It only ends when she steps into the warm shower and grabs the body wash.

One moderately quick shower and dry later she goes into her room and pushes the underwear drawer closed. She raises her hands above her head.

There's a Hawaiian camo sun dress in my closet; dress me.

No underwear?

Won't need 'em. Now do it.

The sun dress is unmistakeable. It's bright yellow with oversized international orange flowers. It drops into place easily, given it has no real breast bumps to stop it. After that she steps into some flip-flops with yellow straps and heads for the door, pausing to pick up her keys and his.