Sweetest Memory

About Last Night...

Lukas awakes to moonlight streaming in through the bedroom window, his heavy lids opening slowly, a searing pain behind his eyes as he tries to raise his head.

Did I forget to draw the blinds? How much did I drink last night?

With a throbbing head, he stumbles across the room, fingers sliding up the cool wall in search of the cord to close the slats, his mind instantly alert as his fingers encounter the texture of heavy drapes.

Fuck!

His bedroom does not have drapes; he's never had the patience for them. His instantly sober eyes drift toward the open space between the two edges of dark blue cloth hanging across the window from a wooden rod, taking in the unfamiliar scene before him, one of a peacefully slumbering suburbia. This was definitely not the view from his apartment – tall buildings and busy city streets was what he was used to seeing when he looked out his bedroom window.

"Ugh! Lukas, I'm getting the feeling we're no longer in Kansas," he mumbles, purely for the sake of hearing his own voice.

He shuts the curtains, the sudden darkness bringing stark relief to his pounding head. With a deep sense of trepidation, he turns from the window, only to be reminded that the room staring back at him is not his own. Stranger still is the shape half-covered with a red satin sheet, still asleep in the bed from which he'd just escaped.

Escape!

Yes, that is what he needs to do, get away before the mystery person awakes. He takes two cautious steps toward the open bedroom door before realising he is missing a few vital pieces of clothing... for some reason, he does not think that his naked escape would go unnoticed by quiet suburbia, despite its apparent quiescence.

Where the fuck are my clothes? And just how much did I drink?

The silhouetted form in the bed moans softly and rolls over, one leg now dangling over the side of the bed. The zinging inside his head stops, only to be replaced by a swarm of bees buzzing around in his angst-ridden gut. The long dark hair that covers the face gives little indication as to who it is, but the glistening lips nestled between milky thighs speak volumes.

Oh fuck! Could I really have drunk that much?

His eyes travel up the spectacular landscape of her body, all thought of escape abandoned as he marvels at her beauty. As if in a dream, his legs carry him back to the bed, taking in the sight of the wondrous offering spread before him like a gift from the gods. He leans in to run one finger up her inner thigh, her soft moan urging him to venture higher, all thoughts of escape put on hold for a while.

Is this really what it seems to be? Did I...? Did we...?

To his recollection, he'd never had sex with a woman before. He'd never had sex, period.

Why can't I remember? Why is this feeling so natural?

His finger inches higher, tracing the delicate folds of her moist sex, as if guided by an intimate memory.

"Mmm... you're awake." A vaguely familiar smile greets him, one he cannot yet put a name to. In his defence, it is too dark for him to see her clearly. Well, just in case the uncomfortable moment of truth ever arrives, that would be his excuse. "Come back to bed, Lukie. I'm cold."

She knows my name? She knows my name.

"Sorry, the light woke me." That seemed like a good excuse, but sounds stupid now that the room is in complete darkness. "The curtains weren't drawn," he mumbles by way of nervous explanation, still feeling somewhat stupid and at a horrible disadvantage.