Dull thumps from the music emanate through the floor, each beat a reminder that we’re on borrowed time. Any of the other partygoers might throw open the bedroom door at any moment and catch us in the spilled light, nowhere to hide. What would they think of me? Would they laugh? Utter an apology and leave? Stay and watch? I shiver. Exposure suddenly feels risky. Dangerous. Yet utterly thrilling. She stirs and my legs wrap his torso, his belt buckle cold against my thigh. The shift of weight permits him to more easily bury his face in my neck. Light stubble first scuffs then scratches my tender flesh, his patchouli and cinnamon scent drifts between us, mixing with faint traces of wine and the distinct overtones of jasmine from my fiery sex. I’m overcome with the raw energy between us. Never been more ready and willing to accept what he has to offer, despite the risqué circumstances. Barely ten minutes earlier we’d been holding hands downstairs, enjoying the company of our friends,. If I let it keep growing, I would be able to put the back into a small ponytail. I laughed a bit at the vision and collected my razor. I poured some water into the basin and splashed my face a few times. I made sure to get my beard wet. Once that was done, I collected my shaving soap and began the lather process.It took a few minutes before the soap reached the correct consistency. Once it was thick enough, I lathered it onto my beard. I had to make a few passes to ensure that the soap made it down to my skin. Once that was done, I took out my razor and leather strop. As I ran the blade across the leather to sharpen it, my mind drifted to when I first learned to shave. I was thirteen when my elder father gave me my first blade ad strop. Through trial and error, I had found how much I should sharpen it and how to shave. My elder father had thought it important that I learned on my own, though he would give insight into how to do it a different and better way when I was stuck. Using.
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