There was a gentle sound that woke me ever so slightly. I turned over and - in my dream - my arm stretched over a soft and warm presence in my bed.
Curious, unsure who -- or what -- it was, my motion froze a moment but, sensing no danger, I lifted my head slowly from its pillow. Light-colored hair was splayed over the pillow next to mine. Soft breathing ruffled the air and a slight rise and fall of the coverlet assured me I was not alone.
Moving under the covers, my hand tentatively reached and felt skin, smooth and soft. I stilled my hand to consider what to do. Doggy Rambo had made no sound from his bed on the porch. This was no stranger who had entered by stealth.
From the size it was no man, either. Very slowly I moved my hand again, a little higher, and felt a shoulder, warm and still. The motion stirred a rich, pleasant fragrance from the body, a hint of fine perfume. Barely touching this new electric skin, my hand went first to a slim neck under luxuriously soft hair. Moonlight through the window let me watch regular, deep-sleep breathing. Slightly bolder, I explored down the center of the back, a straight spine, bordered by strong muscles and I felt a very slight shiver. My hand went dead still again.
There was no sound except the sweet inhalation you might expect from a person enjoying a rose. At the hip, my hand rose, fingers and my palm enjoying clearly female curves, shapes and softness. Turned away from me, the left leg was bent and, my further explorations discovered, there was easy access to warmth and moisture before encountering the other leg straightened in the bed. Without a sound, the figure leaned further away from me, spreading her legs a little more as my hand came back up the inside of the right leg until I felt with my thumb soft hair covering warm hints of moist flesh beneath.
My hand moved to the other leg, reaching across nearly to the knee of this sleeping mystery and then back down, fingers feeling the tender inside of her thigh, appreciating the strength of long muscles of a well-conditioned woman. Again my hand touched hair and paused. There was the slightest sound, neither a moan nor exhalation but a sound as subtle as a soap bubble popping and then, almost too quiet to hear, the hint of a little laugh, the sweet sound of a charmed life. I stroked her hair and the aroma intensified.