Chapter
One
Confusion
Okay, where the hell am I? What
happened to me? The last thing I remember is… nothing comes to mind. Nothing
looks familiar here. I turn toward the window. It’s dark outside, cloudy, not a
star in the big, black sky. The room is dark. I’m naked in this big,
comfortable bed. Judging from the smell of the lavender scent on the perfectly
ironed, high thread-count sheets and pillowcases, I’m either in a very high-end
luxury hotel or in one of Martha Stewart's guest rooms.
A snore interrupts my thoughts. Apparently, I
am not alone. I glance over at the noisy lump beside me. Nope. Don’t recognize
him. There's a very strong possibility that I've been teleported back to the
free-loving sixties. I get up quietly to go to the bathroom. A glint of gold
catches my eye from the ring finger of my left hand. I'm married? Oh, shit!
When did this happen? This isn't the
sixties. This must be Vegas, baby. I creep quietly into the bathroom, close the
door, and snap on the light. Definitely a hotel. Plain, antiseptic bathroom.
Martha Stewart's guest bathroom would have scented candles and a sense of
style, hospitality, and luxury. And not so much white. White walls, white
floor, white towels, white shower curtain. A rather bizarre-looking attachment
on the faucet, and another one on the showerhead. I look at the mirror. I
carefully touch the mirror to make sure it was a real mirror, not a…what? What
else would it be? Oh, God, I’ve gone mad. I peer into the mirror.
Yikes… well, I give that bony lump
sleeping beside me credit for marrying me when I look like hell. Good grief, he
must be a total loser. I examine my dull, spotty complexion, wild Einstein
hair, and the bags under my blurry, bloodshot eyes. My head hurts. I check
myself for bruises, scratches, and sore spots. No, nothing. Well, at least I
wasn’t attacked. So, what do I tell that Bony Lump?
‘Hey, Bozo, whatever happened between
us, it was just some bizarre mistake. Gather your things and get the hell out
of here. I'll contact my lawyer to annul this fiasco as soon as I get home. Now
go!’ Then I’ll point to the door for dramatic effect. Oh, yeah, that sounds
good.
As soon as I get home. Home? Where is
home? I can’t remember. I look back at the reflection in the mirror. I can't
remember where I live, or how I got here. I can't remember where I work, or
what kind of car I drive. I can’t remember my name. A…Amy, Ann…B…Barb…Bebe…C…Cianna…
Carrie…Carol, no.
Hmmm. did Bony Lump drug me? Did he
drug me, take advantage of me, and then, marry me? No, why would he do that?
That makes absolutely no sense. I wiggle the beautiful gold wedding ring with a
large brilliant cut diamond in the center. Weighty. Expensive. Good fit. And…
slightly familiar. Oh, look, a little tan line. Now, how can that be? This has
to be a dream.
I snap off the light and creep silently
back into bed.
Oh, crap! That might have been my last
chance at escape if this lump beside me is a kidnapper. The sooner I go back to
sleep, the sooner I’ll wake up, and this bizarre dream will be over. D…Diane…E…
Emma …F…Franka, no G…Gigi… H…Helen… I… J…Janie…K… Katie…L…Louisa…
M…M…Marie…Mena…Mmmm.
Bony Lump rolls over and pulls me to
him gently, hugging me, patting my shoulder.
“It was just a nightmare, my love. I'm
right here. You're safe,” he whispers sweetly in a sexy, sleepy voice. “Go back
to sleep. You’re safe. I’ll protect you. Always.” He kisses my head gently. He
has a wonderful voice. British accent. Kind. Reassuring. Gentle. Loving. Very
touching.
So, what else could I do but fall
asleep in his arms, with my hand on his just-hairy-enough chest, breathing in
his familiar scent.
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