I came awake. I was disoriented, not knowing what had woken me and where I was. I felt the silky satin sheets wrapped around me and memories of last night came flooding back. I shifted, or more rightly, I tried to shift, and gasped as pain enveloped my body. Tears came unbidden to my eyes as a sharp sting pierced my butt and shot through to the base of my sternum. My back and hips throbbed appallingly, bruised and beaten, my thighs felt like I'd done a hundred squats, and my shoulders had tender spots all over them. Even my breasts ached. I felt like I'd been flogged to within an inch of my life.
I groaned softly to myself in sympathy. Only the memory of what Mr P and I had done last night made it all bearable.
I heard the shrill tones of a female voice, raised in anger and disbelief, though in my current state of waking the words didn't register on my brain. That must have been what had woken me. I desperately tried to climb out of my stupor but I was still sleep-muddled and fuzzy. Deep male tones came next, full of explanation, defensiveness and just a hint of annoyance. I was still trying to blink the sleep from my eyes when the female voice rose several octaves in accusation. My cloudy mind began to clear as I realised I knew that voice.
At the end of the female's diatribe the male voice rose sharply, calling out a name, only to be followed by the slamming of a door.
"Becky!"
My eyes flew open, and I was instantly awake, as my body jerked upright in the bed of its own accord. Two seconds later I was wishing to all the heavens that my reflexes didn't exist, as I half groaned, half gasped at the pain. My breathing jumped from being sleepily languid to hyperventilating in less than a second. And my heart beat sickeningly inside my chest. I felt that awful hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one you always got when you knew you had done something terribly wrong. "Becky!" I whispered as tears welled against my lashes. "Oh God, what have I done?"
I pulled my knees up to my chest, ignoring the pain that flashed through me, and wrapped my arms about them. The sheets bunched around my waist as I rocked back and forth on the bed and the tears spilled over and ran down my cheeks.
Mr P came through the door looking frustrated and a little aggravated. He was raking a hand through his hair as he looked up and saw me. His arms fell to his sides as he slowly walked over to me. He sat down on the bed, reached over and brushed an errant strand of hair back from my face.
"Hey you," he said gently and I gazed at his ruggedly handsome face for only a few seconds before a great wracking sob broke from my throat. I buried my face against my folded arms and cried; mourning a friendship that I knew was irrevocably changed. Mr P"s strong arms wrapped around me and he drew me close. "Come on," he whispered comfortingly. "It's not that bad. Becky will come around."
"No she won't. Oh God, Mr P, this is exactly what I was scared of!" I sobbed. "Becky will never forgive me."
"You mean us. And yes she will, just give her a little time and you'll see. She loves both of us too much to let something like this stand between us."
"Oh Mr P, I don't know." I cried burrowing my face into his shoulder, my own shoulders shaking as I tried to breathe. "This just seems too big to be forgiven so easily."
Becky's father sighed as he released me and shifted up onto the bed, making himself comfortable on a small pile of pillows. He reached out and drew me back into his embrace, tucking me against his body as he let one hand gently slide up and down my spine.
"You'll see; it'll all work out." He said with conviction. I didn't know if he was trying to convince me or himself. And because I could do nothing else I simply nodded and trusted that he knew Becky better than I did.
We spent most of the day in his bed, sharing in a kind of intimate misery that neither of us could fully shake. We dozed on and off and around lunchtime I could not ignore the call of nature any longer. Wearily I disentangled myself from Mr P's arms and legs and cautiously made my naked way into his ensuite.
I was surprised to find his bathroom rather tastefully done. Crisp white tiles rose from floor to ceiling and a decal of deepest blue ran around the room at head height, well, shoulder height on Mr P. I smiled at the thought. The shower recess was huge, easily able to accommodate four average sized people with room to spare, and the single basin, twin cupboard vanity was clean and bright, only Mr P's razor, some mouth wash, a toothbrush and a half used tube of toothpaste sitting on its top. The sight of the toothpaste made me run my tongue over my teeth and I screwed up my face at the furry feeling I encountered.
The loo was tucked into a corner of the room and I gratefully sat down, eagerly relieving myself and wincing at the agonizing sting of my nether region. Gingerly I wiped, dabbing gently around my bottom, being sure to catch all the drips, before standing slowly and flushing the toilet. I turned around and jumped in fright as I saw Mr P standing in the doorway. I blushed in embarrassment. How long had he been standing there? Had he watched me going to the toilet? The thought was a little disconcerting, but even so I couldn't stop the little thrill of excitement that ran through me.
He stood there, leaning against the doorframe in that insufferably confident way that said he didn't have a care in the world. Of course I knew he did, but from the look of him you would never have guessed. He was watching me intently, and I dropped my gaze, suddenly self-conscious, wanting instinctively to cover my breasts and pubis with my hands. I knew it was silly, Mr P having seen all my wares and then some already, but that didn't stop the feeling. I clasped my hands in front of my stomach instead, shifting to the side so Mr P could move past me without difficulty...
