Don't rinse

I made coffee like that. Cum tightening on my cheek when I smiled at nothing. Spit dried between my breasts. I walked to the mailbox in a robe and back, and in the elevator mirror I looked like a woman who had been used well and had not apologized for the evidence.

Around noon Devon texted, you shower yet. I sent a photo of my shoulder, the flake of it still there, and wrote no. I want it on me while I answer email. I want to smell like the morning when I stretch at three. I wiped a little onto my fingers and sucked them clean in the doorway just to watch myself do it. Then I left the rest.

Some girls rush the cleanup because the mess embarrasses the room. The room can leave. The mess is my favorite outfit and it wears better after an hour, when it isn't glossy anymore and it's just mine. I showered at six because I had a class to teach, not because I got shy. There's a difference. I like my body marked. I also like deciding when the mark ends.