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The day started different, I'll say that much for it. I woke up with a naked woman in bed with me, and I knew damn well that I had locked the door and gone to bed alone the previous night.
I didn't see her until I slid from under the sheets and headed toward the closet for my robe. The sliding doors of the closet were mirrored. Just as I reached for the handle, I caught the reflection behind me, enhanced by sunlight filtering through the curtains of the bedroom window. A woman was sitting up in my big king sized bed with the sheet puddled in her lap. She was nude from the waist up.
I froze where I was, staring at the reflection. Her breasts were large, but not overly so. She had no tan lines that I could see. Her face was pretty, almost regal looking except for full sensuous lips. Wavy mahogany hair shading toward a reddish color fell to her shoulders and below, partially covering one breast. That only added to her attractiveness.
She was also nude from the waist down, as I quickly saw when she threw the sheets back. She swung her feet to the floor and stood up. That's when I finally came out of my trance and turned around. She saw me at the same time. We stared at each other.
A puzzled look crept over her face. A very small frown line appeared between her eyebrows. She wasn't the least bit startled or scared or embarrassed to be standing nude in front of a strange man. It was more like she was simply puzzled, even though I had to be a stranger to her; either that or I was suddenly coming back from a blackout after meeting her and bringing her home. No, I clearly remembered locking up. It must be a temporary bout of amnesia, I thought, andnow it's a different day. Before I said a word, I picked up my PDA from the dresser and checked the date. It wasn't a different day.
"Hello," the woman said. Her voice was tinged with perplexity. She stood naturally, hands hanging at her side, one hip slightly tilted.
"How did you get in here?" I asked after a long moment. She didn't look dangerous, so I turned my back on her and opened the closet. I took out my robe and one of the spares. I took the spare robe over to her. She took it and held it up with one hand in front of her, looking sideways at it like a child sneaking a peek at someone with an obvious physical deformity. Her gaze turned back to me. She saw that I was putting on my robe and simply followed suit.
I got my own robe belted then looked up. She had hers closed. It hung on her like a tent, but it didn't make her any less attractive. A minute or so had passed by then. "I don't know," she said, finally answering my question about how she had gotten into my bedroom.
"Well, who are you?"
"I…why, I don't know. Isn't that strange?"
"It's strange, all right," I agreed, wondering which one of us was going crazy. Or whether we both were. She didn't appear to have been in an accident nor did she seem to be in any great distress. I imagine at that point I was looking just about as baffled as she was.
"Well, hell, come on out in the kitchen and let me get some coffee going so I can think straight," I told her. I have to get a caffeine fix first thing in the morning or I'm not much good to anyone.
She followed me like a new pup in a strange home tagging around after the only human in sight. Neither of us said anything while I got the filter out, measured coffee, poured water into the top and got down cups. Frankly I didn't know quite what to say and I don't think she did either. It was like one of those times when a person has gotten on the outside of too much liquor and woke up the next morning with a total stranger. Except that I hadn't had anything last night except a beer.
While the coffee was making, I pulled the blinds up on the window in the den. From there, the pool was visible. Even this early, it was already in use. I saw Raven and Gwen stretched out by the pool and Doug Descenti swimming laps. A grounds keeper was working in the flower beds that lined the sidewalk leading around the corner of another of the two story units and on to the parking lot. Just a typical Saturday morning at an upper middle class apartment complex in Houston.
"My name's John Sydley. Are you sure you don't remember yours?" I asked.
"No. Do I need a name?"
Damn. I had a nut on my hands. A pretty nut, but a nut just the same. "It would help," I said. "I have to call you something."
"I suppose so. What do you want to call me?"
Damn some more. I thought right then that I'd give her a cup of coffee then contact someone to take her off my hands. In the meantime…"Well, since I'm John, how about if we call you Mary. Is that all right?"
"Oh, certainly. That's a pretty…name."
Copyright © 2006 Darrell Bain