After a few minutes of rest, I reached for the room service menu, feeling the hunger that had been temporarily sated by our passion. "What would you like to eat?" I asked, my eyes scanning the options. She remained silent, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I'll order something light for both of us," I decided, placing the call.
When the food arrived, Liya had still not emerged from her cocoon of sheets. The scent of warm bread and melted cheese filled the air, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at her shyness. The room service attendant cast a knowing smile as I signed the bill, the quiet understanding of a man who had seen countless post-coital scenes play out in the hotel's suites.
