"Dave?" I could have sworn I heard my name being called, as I came to.
"Dave? Are you awake?" this time, more insistent and definite. A husky female voice from the darkness.
In the darkness, I rubbed my eyes - attempting to rub the image of sinking into the ample cleavage of the blonde from my dreams. Someone had better have a good reason for this rude awakening.
My surroundings were odd, something I could not put my finger on quite yet, but I sat up and answered.
"I'm here, wassup?" my tongue was clearly still half asleep (obviously it was offended at being woken from the dream about the top-heavy blonde).
"Sorry to wake you Dave, but I need your help with something." the owner of the female voice was now outside my door. "Do you mind if I came in?"
"Come in.", and a second later, my eyes were screwed up in pain, as the room light came on.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to wake you." My bleary eyes were now accustoming themselves to the invading light, but it would still take time to get fully used to it.
"Come on, sit down." I gestured, patting the bed next to me.
The voice's owner padded over and sat next to me on the covers. I could smell perfume, and feel the warmth from the body. However, my eyes had come back to me, and I could behold the owner of the voice. Tracy, my University crush from 20 years ago. Tracy had continued to blossom in the intervening years, and had looked after herself. An all natural, stunner - blonde (my weakness), high cheekbones, full chest, thin waist, full hips and long legs (as long as mine - she'd bet me when we first met, and I lost). Wrap that up in a practically indecently sheer babydoll nightdress and you've got the picture.
My eyes could hardly keep off her body as I asked, "What's up? It has to be something important..." I was in a hotel room, Tracy had come through the adjoining door which lay open to her lit bedroom.
"It's something Fred said tonight." Fred was how we had met. He'd been on a year's study at my University all that time ago, and had been the lucky sod to have Tracy on his arm all through that year and beyond.
"Well, after a few drinks it does seem to free his inhibitions."
"I know, but he said a few things to me that I have to admit, I've been thinking about, and can't seem to sleep."
"Right," I rolled my eyes - this was going to take a while. "I'll get the coffee on."
"No, I think a something a little more stronger." said Tracy. She suddenly got up, and sashayed back to her room, before calling back "How's bourbon? I've got some here."
"Good with me." bourbon had always been Tracy's go-to drink for toasting success, handing out sympathy, or anything else for that matter.
She returned with the bottle, and two of the hotel glasses.
"Try the bucket, Tracy, I think I may still have ice left from earlier."
Tracy detoured to the ice bucket on the crappy unit, bending over and giving me more than an eyeful than she probably realised. She dropped ice into each glass, wandered back over to the bed before pouring a healthy measure for each of us. Offering me a glass, we clinked and each took a sip.
"Well..." I said.
"Fred gets nasty after a few drinks, one of the reasons we split up." Tracy's voice and the bourbon were hypnotic, and my eyes struggled to look into her eyes for any length of time. It doesn't help when she was just right there. On my bed, within touching distance.
"I knew we shouldn't have invited you over for the reunion."
"Hey, not your problem. No skin off my nose. Tonight aside, I'm having a great time over here. The weather is better than back home, the company is wonderful and...", I leant over and whispered in Tracy's ear (sneaking a peek down that glorious valley of tit-flesh) "the chicks over here are going mad over my 'cute British accent'". We both laughed, and my stomach dipped when I saw the womanly wobble of her chest as she laughed. She thumped me playfully on the shoulder.
"You don't have to enjoy it so much."
"Look Donna is a grown girl, who clearly has taste when it comes to men." Donna had virtually fallen over herself during our meal earlier, our table's 'waitress for the evening' could not have done more for me.
"'Oh Dave'" Tracy mimicking Donna from earlier, "'I just LOVE your cute British accent. Anything you want, please just ask'" again giving rise to more laughter, and a chest movement that caught more than my eye's attention.
Fred, had not taken it quite as well as Tracy had. We'd gone to his favourite restaurant, and I'd been fawned over by his favourite waitress, to the point that he'd just blown a gasket.
