I know you went to sleep on the couch last night. You mean you don't remember coming upstairs or how you woke up? Well...
I'm alone in the dark. Winter's cold quiets everything outside my door and a hand full of candles in the room gave a timid display of light on the wall in this place, robbed of electricity. I had been listening to music and was settling down to enjoy a good book when the house went black. Now I was without sufficient light and you had let the wine carry you to sleep on the couch.
The candles had been easy to find by the light of my cell phone screen and the amber glow they cast reminded me of a time I had visited in books and film. It was a relaxing and romantic feeling tickled my imagination and then other things.
You looked so beautiful lying in a wine-laced dream, your lips slightly parted, your eyelids blanketing you from seeing the rising hunger that I allowed to spill out of me. Your bare feet with their painted nails seemed to be mocking me with only the faintest hint what lay beneath your jeans. They were tight on your round hips and shapely legs but with patient delicacy I removed them and drank in the glow of your skin beneath the candle-light.
The way you went to sleep there was no guarantee how you would react if you woke up but I new that if I could tickle your lust before you regained consciousness that you would welcome my advances in force.