The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the gauze curtains, casting gentle shadows across Lisa's peaceful face. I sat beside her on the narrow bed, my fingers absently tracing patterns on the worn wooden bedframe as I watched her sleep. The sheets beneath us were still disheveled from our passionate encounter, and the faint scent of soap mixed with something more intimate lingered in the warm air.
It had been nearly three hours since Lisa had collapsed, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her climax. The memory of her gasps and whispered pleas still echoed in my mind, along with the overwhelming realization that we had both crossed a threshold together—one that could never be uncrossed.
I had carefully cleaned both of us with water from the washbasin, using a soft cloth to gently tend to her tender skin.
