Reunion Romance

Celia woke with a start.

At first she wasn't quite sure where she was. This was not her bed, not her comforter, not her writing desk.

THINK, she told herself.

Next to the bed on the nightstand was an empty bottle of wine. No wineglass. No glass at all.

Well, THAT explains the headache.

Slowly she sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around. She was in a hotel room. Quickly she glanced at the spot beside her.

Uh-oh.

Next to her laying on his stomach was a half-naked man with dark hair. Or he might have been completely naked under the sheet that was pulled just above his ass.

Stephen Marshall.

Oh crap, now it was coming back to her.


Slowly she lifted her side of the sheet up and tried to silently slide to the edge of the bed. Being so very careful not to make any noise, she stepped one foot to the floor, and then the other.

"Hrrrrmmmp"

Celia's head snapped around to at the noise. Stephen was still sleeping; he must have been dreaming or made the sound when he changed positions --- now he was on his side, one arm outstretched to where Celia had been laying just a few moments ago.

I have got to get out of here, she thought.

Celia slowly put one foot down on the floor, and then the other, watching Stephen the whole time.
Let’s see, where would I find my underwear, she thought.
She didn’t see them anywhere on the floor, or even on the chair.  Creeping around the bed, she knelt down to look under the bed.
 
“Looking for these?” Stephen was holding up her undies above his head, swaying them back and forth."I always thought of you in black lacy underwear, not these beigy things," he said.
 
"I was wearing a white dress," she said, reaching up to yank her panties out of his hand.  "And anyway, I don't believe it's any business of yours what type of underwear I wear."

"Well, maybe I want to make it my business," he said, and with that he shoved her underwear under the sheets.

"Come and get them," he sang.

"Forget it, I'll go without."

"Whoa, what's the problem Ce-Ce? Last night was ..."

"Last night was a mistake," she said. "I don't know what you said or what you did to get me here but we should have never done what we did."

"And what is it that you think we did?" Stephen asked.

"Just forget it," Celia said, pulling her dress -- the dress she was wearing last night -- over her head.

"Oh, maybe I don't want to forget it ... it was .. pretty special ... for both of us.""

Celia looked around for her shoes, found them on top of the dresser (how did they get there?) and slipped them on.

Whatever, Stephen, all I know is that I must have been pretty drunk and you took advantage of me and this would have NEVER happened had I been sober.  You are a slime bucket and I don't ever want to see you again."

And with that Celia stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.