Naked!” Peter calls out, remaining stock still in his motions, his underwear half way up. In his surprise he blurts the word out with a tone of shock and question.
Jenna stops immediately. “No?”
Peter shakes puzzled his head, moving his underwear up and lets the waistband snap around his waist. “No?” he peeks around the corner, finding Jenna standing there.
His hair is still a bit wet and she can see a tiny bit of his bare shoulder. “It sounded more like a question.”
“A question?” he hides again behind the curtain.
“Or an invitation,” she says out loud and blames herself for not keeping her mouth shut.
Again he stops in his moves and tries to make sense out of it.
“I was not supposed to say that out loud,” she makes a grimace, hoping he will not be mad at her. “Sorry.”
Looking for his socks, smiling about her, “I admit it sounded not like a proper warning.”
Jenna finds herself leaning a bit to the right, hoping she would get another glimpse at him - she only realizes it when he peeks around again and she almost stumbles over her feet. She makes a jump to the left under Peters risen eyebrows. “Whatever, I am not naked and obviously you are. I just wanted to ask if you want some tea?”
“Yes, would be nice! Two minutes I am ready.”
“Good,” she turns around with an unsatisfied huff to leave again, when his voice stops her.
“You not missing much, Jenna. Just a 56 year old, pale, middle attractive body. Grey-haired stick insect, remember?” he giggles soundless. He knows he is not a heartthrob. No six pack, no brown tanned skin, just ordinary.
“Understatement of the year, pretty sure you’re worth it,” she whispers and walks away.
“What did you-” he looks around again, “say?” No, she didn’t say that, he must have misheard something.
He grabs for his trousers and gets them on, before looking for the shirt. It is packed in a plastic cover and he has to rip it open. It is still on the hanger and he has trouble to get it out. The buttons are always a bit tricky when the shirt is brand new. The material is still tight and the seams are way too solid. Somehow he gets the hanger out without opening the buttons or ripping the shirt apart and the next thing he does is fiddling around and is swearing at the tiny bastards. He could need a bit more light and his reading glasses, he thinks.
“Gosh, Peter, when did you get so old?” he asks himself.
How many minutes have past yet? Five at least and Jenna just walks into the big tent. Two mugs in her hands, not thinking about the possibility of Peter not being dressed by now, “Susan from make up told me, you can take your time, she is off to lunch,” walking around the corner she holds the mug out, toward a shirtless Peter, having the shirt in his hands, only two buttons open yet.
Jenna looks into his eyes, and the expression of shock makes her realize, she has walked in at him in an inconvenient moment. Focusing on his eyes, her field of view sends some more signals to her brain that she might should not look down, but of course she can’t control herself, and her eyes are flashing down over his chin, over his bare chest, the hands with the shirt, toward his waistband.
‘Don’t go further!’ her head screams and she quickly brings her eyes back to his, swallowing. “Uhm.”
The shock in his eyes has changed into a more amused expression. “I am still half naked,” he says.