It was the third time that Danny had woken up to find that he was not alone in his bed. The third time in just one month that he opened his eyes, took in a deep breath and smelled the sweet scent of female perfume. The third time his head had gently ached as he racked his brain to think of how the blazes he had got home.
This girl was prettier than the other two had been. Younger, too. Blonde, petite, cute as she lay there next to him on her front, the sheets straggling around her thighs to reveal a tight behind that fair made the mouth water.
The first time, he'd been surprised, but pleased that he'd apparently got lucky. But when she woke, just a few moments after he did, she wasn't pleased at all. She was horrified. She called him a date rapist and fled the scene as fast as her dainty feet could carry her.
He wasn't a date rapist. The mere idea of such an act filled him with revulsion. But a couple of weeks later, another girl lay in his bed. He woke her gently, apologising profusely that he didn't remember a thing about last night, telling her to take as long as she liked to get ready to leave, that he would pay for her taxi, that he was sorry.
"You dumb Klutz!" Ray had told him when he reported the second one the week later in Ray's bar. "You may not have remembered the previous night, but she probably did! What if you had a great time, you fell asleep tired in each other's arms, then in the morning you're hounding her out, telling her you didn't remember a thing, saying you'll pay for a taxi, paying for her to leave. What's that gonna seem like to her?"
"Oh, I never thought of that," he'd said back, taking a mournful sip of bourbon to drain the glass.
"You probably lost a good one there. Could've turned it into something."
"Damn, I thought I did the right thing! Jeez, Ray, get us another glass, huh?"
"Hey, it's not your fault," the barman smiled as he poured another bourbon. "What Cathy did to you messed you up – it's only natural to make mistakes as you get back into the dating game after so long."
But now, here he was in bed with another girl. The first time was kind of funny, the second a little weird. Third time must mean he had some kind of problem. Was he an alcoholic? Jesus, that was kind of serious, wasn't it?
What to do now? The first time, she'd yelled and screamed. The second, she had looked kind of strange, like maybe wondering why he was so keen to shepherd her out of the door. What would this one do? He lay there motionless, the stillness doing some good for his headache – it was subsiding. Perhaps he should wait, wait until she was awake, feign sleep, let her decide what to do. If she was horrified, she could creep out without waking him, gather her things then scram, without leaving a trace of her identity which could cause her embarrassment later on. If she remembered last night, and felt it had gone a good way, she might wake him up. It was her choice.
It wasn't long. She moaned quietly, and rolled over. He could see her small but curvaceous breasts, her little pink nipples. Damn, if only the sheets had been thicker. He felt his loins responding to the sight, the blood flowing into his cock to make it expand. Would she notice? He lifted a knee slightly, tenting the sheet to conceal his hardness from her as she awoke.
Looking out from between his eyelashes so that she would think he was still fast asleep, he watched her wake. She stretched slightly, wriggled a little, then nudged into his side. Realising that he was there, she opened her eyes fully quite suddenly, a little jolt of surprise wracking her slender frame. So, she didn't remember, then. He shut his eyes tight. Best give her some privacy as she pulled on some clothes and ran, it was only right.
Oh, but she smelled so good, that sugary scent really getting to him, making his cock twitch slightly. It had been so long since he had felt the affectionate touch of a female hand. So long since he had been able to worship at the altar of the female form.
"Hey!" he heard her whisper. What? What was she doing? He flinched slightly as a cold hand slipped under the sheet and came to rest on his stomach. "You awake?"
She was waking him up! Surely she wouldn't wake him up to scream at him. Or would she? Perhaps she would demand to know what had happened last night, wake him up just to scream at him, preferring to express her rage and make him suffer rather than make a dignified exit. Cathy had liked to shout at him. Did all women like to make men suffer?
Better get it over with, then.
He let out a groan and faked a yawn before rubbing his pseudo-sleepy eyes to make her think he was waking up. Her hand was still on his stomach. Warm now, it was... was it? Stroking him, running across his toned abdomen, up past his navel and over his breast. Well, perhaps she could remember last night after all! Perhaps they'd had a great night! She wanted him, wanted to stay with him! His heart was filled with hope and optimism.
