How are you, angel? 

She takes off her clothes even before the door clicks shut behind her. She drags the pullover over her head with force, unbuttoning the shirt while still half stuck in the sleeves. Her hair is a messy flood, but she doesn’t care. The moment her hands are free, she fumbles with her bra, flings it off, and lets everything fall into a heap on the floor. Somewhere along the way, she’s already wiggled out of her pants; only the socks slow her down, as usual. She pins one with her heel and drags her foot back, then hooks the big toe of the other into the fabric and peels it off in one final, practised motion, finally free of the whole mess. With all skin bare, she shakes the day off like a dog. What the fuck! 

Passing the first doorframe was like a portal. She’s made it to level two. The living room was anchored by a carpet that looked like it was still mourning the seven chihuahuas it might once have been. Hair stuck out in every direction. She crossed it in two determined strides and dropped straight into the centre. Dropping mattered. Not easing down, rolling, sagging. No negotiation with gravity. No bullshit. A real drop. She lay sprawled, legs wide open, feeling the fur entangled with her pubic hair, tracing the unfamiliar edges of her body, the side-skin you only notice when you’re flat and still. Her breast shifted backwards, revealing sweaty creases that never get exposed. It’s extra tender in there. The red pressure grooves of her clothes are finally releasing their indented shapes. All surfaces are overly sensitive and newly awake. Slowly, very slowly, she started to move. 

Arms and legs.

Together.

Apart.

Together.

Apart.

Together.

Carefully at first and then more urgently, like shaking something loose from the inside. Till she frantically moved in an ecstatic crescendo. Sweat breaking along her forehead and under her armpits, matting the carpet fur to her outline. She kept going. And going. Until: Stop. She lay completely still. Tracking the hard pull of her breath, the heart hammering in her chest, blood rushing behind her eyelids. After a moment, she rolled onto the side to look at the imprint she had left behind. A perfect angel shape. A smile of relief. Then swept her forearm over the furry carpet until all traces disappeared.

I still got it, she thought, flicking off the light, getting ready to enter level three.