The mattress, stained by years of sweaty nights and tangled sheets, sunk into the box spring. Jane lay on her side, eyes closed, one arm outstretched above her head as she traced the knuckles on the hand with slender fingers. Her red hair spilled around her, framing a heart-shaped face. A faint smile lingered on and off her lips, only noticeable when it was gone. Her breasts were small but pert, perking to jut forward at slight angles from her chest and standing high on her rib cage. The pale blue tank top hid little in the way of cleavage, and he could see that she wore no bra underneath. She had refused to tell him where they were going or why she needed to pack a bag quickly before racing out the door. All she would say is that it was "an adventure."