He was leaning over the rail of the balcony when she came out of the shower. Though she was just barely wrapped in a towel, wearing only her necklace, she wandered to the door and ran her finger down his back. He turned and put his back to the rail, back against it.
“Ah, there you are. Come here.”
He smiled as she started to walk towards him, and reached out to take her hands. She let the towel drop and clothed herself in his arms. He nuzzled into her neck, planting kisses between her nape and the lobe of her ear, and then he whispered;
“Do you like the town of my birth then? The Rome that never quite was, this odd little town in Provence?”
“You were born here in Avignon? I did not know that!”
He spun her to face him, grasping her upper arms in his strong hands. He allowed himself a moment to look at her body, to appreciate the perfection and then his eyes came to rest on the key nestling between her breasts on her necklace. He kissed her, wrenched the key from its chain, and flipped backwards over the rail.
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