By Thomas Biehl
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Copyright 2012 Thomas Biehl
Shane tried to open his eyes, but they refused. The dull ache of his head and the foul taste in his mouth confirmed it; he was hung over. He willed himself to pass back out, so he could sleep it off. No such relief came to him, though. He laid there drifting on the edge of consciousness. Images faded in and out teasing him with dreams that he could not sleep to see. He struggled to make coherent thoughts in his painful head. Was he still drunk? Perhaps, but either way Shane felt like shit. As if to confirm this, a queasy feeling rose in his stomach. He rolled over to quiet his midsection. Then, his hand hit something, something soft, supple… skin!
This time Shane’s eyes shot open. His hand touched a naked leg protruding from under the sheets. His eyes followed the lightly tan, shaven, female leg from the small foot up to the thigh where it disappeared under the covers. The white sheets outlined the form beneath them, subtle curved hips narrowing a bit, then giving way to a smaller midsection. Then, her chest made two little mountains of snowy cotton. Finally the sheets gave way to a shoulder, then a neck, and then an attractive woman’s face that was surrounded by long soft black hair. A low whimper escaped her crimson lips as she rolled onto her side, away from Shane.