The suite was huge and everything looked incredibly expensive. She was unused to such finery, but she couldn't help trying out the huge bed at least once. It was soft and firm and infinitely preferable to the mattress she had in her bedroom at home. Hell, she didn't even have a set of box springs.
The bathroom was also enormous and sported a hot tub and separate shower. On the wide marble counter bye the sink sat a basket. There was a white terry robe with the hotel's logo on it hanging on a hood behind the door and she was astonished to see a clean set of her clothing folded neatly on the other side of the basket. He'd thought of everything. She blinked. But when had he thought of everything? She'd been with him all day. When had he arranged all of this? She shook her head. He was the Devil. She was sure that organizing a pleasant evening for her did not tax his abilities.
The basket was filled with expensive creams and soaps, and they had smelled marvelous. She loved nice smelling soaps, and although she had to make do with ivory at home, she had no such restrictions here. She spent almost an hour and a half in the heated tub with the pink soap that smelled of hollyhocks and reminded her of summers at home, before her father had died.
After her bath she had curled up in her robe on the bed again, unwilling to break the mood by putting on clothes. She hugged her knees to her chest and pulled the blanket around her. Enthroned in the overstuffed pillows, she watched an old black and white Perry Mason adventure and the end of a Roy Rogers movie, which she found to be very therapeutic.
She was quite tempted to take a nap in the large, comfy bed, but she remembered that she was expected at dinner, and so gathered her willpower and rolled out of her warm nest. She dressed quickly, because the room seemed empty and no longer comforting now.
She wasn't sure how to check out, so she just left, moving swiftly through the lobby afraid that someone would stop her and demand to know where she was going. She had an irrational fear that most things she did were wrong, and that people would certainly yell at her if they noticed. She hated being yelled at. It was a good thing people seldom noticed her, she thought.
Fortunately a cabby did notice her, and as she sat against the door breathing the stale cigarette air that she was sure the cushions absorbed, she was suddenly reminded of the mattress she was returning to. She sighed and folded her hands on her lap where they brushed the smooth wooden handle of the umbrella she was still carting around with her. The wood was almost warm against her hand, although she'd not been holding it. As she caressed the rounded wooden handle, she felt better about what she was going home to. Even if she had a lumpy mattress, she had the Devil himself to keep her company until he decided to leave again.
She exhaled slowly. Until he left again. He would leave again. She knew it. He would leave again and it would go back to being the way it was before. Dull and empty. She closed her eyes, but the cabby's voice brought her out of it. They were idling in front of her apartment. She started and hurriedly paid him the fare. The wallet was comfortable in her hands, the rich suede pleasant to the touch. To get the money out she had to tuck the umbrella under her arm, but she manage to do it without much trouble. The cabby grunted a thank you and pulled away, leaving her to mount the stairs to her apartment.
The light outside was dim, and the air bleak. The breeze had turned chill after the pleasantness of the day, so she was more than happy to retreat into the warmth of her home. The lights were all burning and the table in the nook was set for two. Strains of music led her to the living room where he sat on the couch, engrossed in the Inferno yet still idly moving his pinky in time with soft classical piece that was playing on her small stereo. He folded his book as she entered, careful to mark a place, and then smiled warmly.
"Welcome home."