We were in her room. I looked at the piano and the curtains which did not have the same colour. She started undressing herself. I had never seen that before. I thought undressing the other was part of the game. When discovering, a first touch. How your hands gently touch the fabric, and through the fabric feel her skin. How your hands feel where the hips and her shoulders are, where the strap of her bra is that then can be slipped down. The discomfort of a body that slowly gets exposed more and more. And that there is a bed, or anything else where you're naked together and touching each other. First only the stomachs, but then also the arms and legs.

She stood there in her panties and bra. A white stomach, muscled like a surfer. I reluctantly pulled my sweater over my head and the dress that was underneath. I searched for her eyes as I did. Undressing felt like stripping naked in the change rooms of a swimming pool. The forced state between a winter coat and swimsuit. I undressed myself further. I rolled the tights down my legs, I tried to make it sensual. Touching my own skin with my thumb and palms as i slid it down my legs. My legs were whiter than I remembered. As I stood in my shirt in front of her, she reached into a pile of clothes next to the door. From the mountain, she pulled out a faded red T-shirt, still stiff from drying. she hoisted herself into the T-shirt. Her smooth stomach disappeared under the red fabric. I could just see her navel. I now only wore a bra and a thong. On the chair our clothes lay intertwined.
My mind went back to when we were still outside, when I was still wearing clothes. How the tram stopped for the stop near her house and nobody got out because it was late and everyone had already gone home. I looked at her hands that were soft and my breasts. The skin puffed out from the side and the moles that run across it from dark to light. I felt naked, exposed as a platform. People do not look at the nudeness as if they're waiting for it, as if they expect something from it.
I stared at the pile of washed clothes. She stood with her back to me to put a CD in the radio. Her room had a good sound system. She moved her hands along the radio like she knew what she was doing, then turned back to me. We looked at the pile together. "What do you want?" I chose a light blue top with waves of the Mediterranean sea on it.
She gestured that she had to get something in another room. I stepped on the mattress that lay on the ground in the corner. I lay still and looked at all the things in the room. To the piano with the open lid , and the bookshelf, which had two juggling clubs on it and a mannequin of foam. The bed was cold, I rubbed it warm with my legs.

When the door opened, she came in with two glasses of water. She placed one glass beside me on the floor; the other she held in her hand as she stepped into the bed with me. I smelled her, she smelled like a woman. It was a pleasant smell. I looked at her, at her neck, which I  had just kissed outside in the dark. I saw the shape of her face. she reservedly drank her whole glass of water and put it next to my full one. I felt her legs crawling into the bed, how she looked at me with her dark eyes. Now it surely had to start. I had no idea how, with the flanel blanket up to my chin in a light blue top that smelled of clean laundry.

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