Runaway Fantasy * Monday * (second day)
This is so nice. I'm so comfortable right now, I feel like I could sleep forever. This mattress, this comforter, these pillows... I feel like I'm floating on a cloud.
That dream I had last night... woah. I don't remember all of it, but it was weird. Super weird. But some parts of it were really good, like when Mike and I actually made out! That was so intense and crazy, though.
Oh my god.
This isn't my bed. I'm not at home.
I push myself up off this ridiculously soft mattress. My eyes are crusted over, but I open them up just enough to look around. That wasn't a dream at all. I'm in Mike's hotel room!
All of that actually did happen. The making out, the butt squeezing, the Applebee's. Oh god... the touching myself while Mike was awake and in the next bed over. I can't believe all of that actually happened! I can't believe I did that. And I can't believe I slept over in the hotel room of a 45-year-old married man!
The only thing saving me from total embarrassment right now is the fact that Mike's not in his bed. I'm here all alone. He must've gotten up? Where is he? What time is it?
I look over at the clock on the bedside table and it says 7:57. That's a totally reasonable time, but I feel like I've been sleeping forever. I feel good though, like I'm fully rested and ready to go after a great night's sleep.
The only really confusing thing left is, where is Mike? It doesn't sound like he's out in the living room or kitchen area, but maybe he's in the bathroom?
I hop out of my bed, but as soon as I peak around the corner I can see the bathroom is empty, so he's not in there.
Me (starting to get ever so slightly worried): "Mike?"
No answer, so I gingerly walk out into the living room. He's definitely not out here, so where in the world could he be?
Now I'm starting to feel a little panicky. Where could he be? Why would he leave so early in the morning? Where would he have gone? Oh wait... there's a folded piece of paper on the main table that looks like it could be a note. Maybe he left that?
I pick it up, and it says:
Gone for a run - be back soon!
Okay phew... That makes sense. I don't know why, but my anxiety really came out of nowhere there. I know it's completely illogical for me to feel this way, but sometimes I just can't help it. I'm really glad I know where he is now, and of course it all makes sense. I do feel dumb though for freaking out. What is wrong with me??
Now that my heart rate has returned to normal, I head over to the living room couch, and wouldn't you know it, I actually see Mike right outside the window of our room! He looks like he just finished his run, because he's bright red, sweaty, and walking at a pretty good pace back and forth in the parking lot. He must be doing some sort of a post-workout cooldown.
I walk over to the window, and after a few more seconds of watching him, we make eye contact and he smiles and waves. He then starts walking towards the building as if he's coming back to our room. I mean his room? This is definitely Mike's room and not our room.
Anyhoo, sure enough I hear Mike at the door and he comes on in. I walk over to greet him, and it seems like he must've had a pretty intense run because he's still out of breath.
Mike (panting): "Hey sleepy head, when'd you get up?"
Me: "Oh, just a few minutes ago."
Mike: "Oh good, I was worried I was gonna wake you when I left for my run."
Mike then starts heading for the kitchen, but I'm directly in his line, so he leans down and gives me a sweaty little peck on the lips on his way by. He then proceeds to grab a glass and fill it with water from the sink.
I have to say, the fact that Mike was just working out is kind of a turn on. Sure, his light gray t-shirt has huge dark sweat marks around his pits, but the way his arms and legs are glistening, combined with how he's still trying to catch his breath between gulps of water, it all makes him seem so manly. I really like it.
And as if that's not appealing enough, Mike then grabs the bottom of his t-shirt and lifts it clean off over his head. He kicks off his shoes by the door, leans over to take off his socks, and then walks into the bedroom carrying the dirty clothes he just removed. He emerges back out wearing just his running shorts, and I assume underwear underneath.
Mike (starting to sound less out of breath but still glistening all over): "Yeah sorry I was gone when you woke up. It's supposed to get pretty hot today so I wanted to get my run in as early as possible."
I contemplate for a second mentioning how worried I was when I woke up and he wasn't here, but then I catch myself and decide not to say that. I figure that would just make me sound pathetic and needy, and rightfully so.
Me: "Oh no problem! Thanks for leaving the note."
Mike takes another drink of water, and this time a little bit spills out the side of his glass and dribbles down his chin. As it drips off of his face and falls to the floor, I follow it down with my eyes, but I immediately lose focus on that single droplet and instead transfer my gaze to his wonderful ab muscles. They're so well defined, and now that they're sweaty, they look even more like something you'd see in a fitness magazine.
Right below his stomach, I can see his shorts are riding low enough that they're exposing a little bit of his underwear. The waistband is black, so I assume it's the same pair of undies he wore to bed. All I can think of is the bulge that must be hiding underneath. I got such a good view of it last night, but unfortunately the running shorts he's wearing now aren't nearly as revealing.
Mike (catching me in the act): "You really like checking out my junk, don't you?"
