A silk orchid print caftan hung open, to reveal a matching two piece swimsuit that fit her like a second skin. Although not a connoisseur of women’s fashions, I knew enough to recognize quality and taste. She wore sandals whose worth alone would feed a Greek family for a week. I felt suddenly underdressed, despite my best efforts to fit in as well. A peasant passing himself off as a prince on the playground of untouchable royalty. Still, I had a part to play, and I’d committed myself to it. “A lovely day.” It was a throw away comment, covering up my sudden awareness of how out of place I felt in her company. It wasn’t the trappings of wealth, mind you, not her beauty or, rather, not just her beauty. It was something indefinable, a glow that came from within, a promise, perhaps, of divinity. “May I?” My expression must have mirrored the surprise I felt as she rested her hand upon the back of the chair opposite me, her sender fingers tipped by perfectly curved moons of crimson, a. I tried to process how I felt and where the hell I was. My mind did not want to work at all. I tried to force it to be rational, but nothing happened. I just lay there in stupor. The first thing I realized was that it was not my bed. It was far too large, soft, and smelled too good to be mine.Then I got this feeling that I wasn't alone. Maybe it was the odd perfume, or after shave, it was hard to tell the difference, that gave it away. Maybe it's the breathing that wasn't coming from me, or maybe it was the feel of skin pressed against my naked ass. That Sunday morning it was definitely skin. Since I didn't feel a penis, or boobs, he or she had to be sleeping turned away from me.I don't really mind being held, and I don't mind not being held, what I mind is not knowing who is holding or not holding me. Before I made an ass of myself, I tried to remember what had happened the night before. I remember Jen's stupid party, and I remember the Cop Out. I even remember the invitation by.
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