Chasing a Waterfall

Disclaimer: Do not read further if you are under the age of eighteen or are otherwise prohibited by law to view sexually explicit material.

All characters engaging in any sexual activity in this story are at least 18 years of age.

Do not reprint this work on any other website, or any medium, without express consent from the author (me!).

Synopsis: A man awakens to no memory of the night before, and conflicting recollections to his true identity. This is the first chapter in a planned story arc. I hope you enjoy this submission! As always, comments are appreciated and encouraged.

************************************************

Standing Under an Umbrella, and Chasing a Waterfall

Chapter 3, Part 1: "By Dawn's Eerie Light"

Michael was awoken started, the second time in the last week. He found himself in what looked to be a bedroom. It was not that luxury penthouse suite at Solaire One. The room was much smaller, maybe half the size. The main source of light came from a two panel, a sliding glass window that was directly to the forefront of his bed. The blinds were down, but enough light from the moon was coming through as to allow him a good glimpse of his surroundings.

He was in a bed. The textile feel of the sheets was dissimilar to what he had slept in at either her penthouse or his townhome. Gone were the satin sheets, massive pile of pillows and multiple fluffy comforters. In place, a cotton sheet and blanket with two pillows beneath his propped up head. Above him whirled a single ceiling fan.

To his right was a closet, and to his left, a television on what looked to be a wooden dresser. The television was a wide flat panel model, it looked to be an LCD, but he could not be sure. His vision was a bit off. The room was spinning and he saw what looked to be auras before his eyes.

A sudden urged consumed him. He needed to get to a bathroom. Moving up in bed, his feet quickly hit a rug that covered the hard wood below. Only when he reached a standing position did he realize that something was not right. He felt different. His sense of balance was off. His upper body felt a bit sluggish. Looking around, in search of a door, he found the room seemed to be larger around him. He felt shorter.

Finding the bedroom door, to the left of the night stand on the television side of the bedroom, he walked out into the corridor. To his right down the hallway he could not be sure. It was too dark. A glimpse down at the floor gave him pause. His feet looked to be unusually petite. A thought entered his mind, but he dismissed it. Looking to his left, he took sight of destination. The bathroom door was ajar with a nigh light emanating through. Moving into the bathroom, he barely had time to shut the door before an overwhelming need to relieve himself consumed him.

Hovering over the toilet, he struggled with the ties on his robe. In the very next motion, he pulled down his boxers as well. Not bothering to take hold of his manly vestige, he felt his bladder let go. What he did not hear, however, was the sound of urine making contact with water. Instead, a warm feeling of wetness began to spread from his lower region and down his right thigh. As the liquid sprayed he began to get an unnerving feeling taking over him. Struggling to control his bladder, he managed to long enough to take a seat on the toilet and finish his business.

What gave him pause was the sudden realization that something was seriously wrong. He felt between his legs, but could not find his cock. Springing to his feet, he moved his body in a twisting motion to his left and grasped onto the sink counter top. Look up, after a momentary pause into the sink. The face that looked back at him was another foreign face. A more oval face with big blue eyes and long black hair, it was the face of a young woman.

A sudden throbbing in his head and queasiness in his stomach overcame him. She tasted the first metallic fluids coming up from her stomach and a moment later she vomited the contents into the bathroom sink. Fall to the floor; she exerted great effort to make it back over to get within range of the toilet before vomiting again, again and again into the confines of the bowl. Having only brief moments of clarity between bouts of vomiting, she could not help but wonder how this had all come to be.

Only after it was all over, and she was resting, back braced up against the wall next to the toilet that some sense of sanity had come over her. It had been a dream. Vincent Davidson, Michael Lincoln and Blackfoot Securities were all figments of her imagination. What she could not sake was how real it had felt.

The fictional scenario that had played in her mind took place over multiple days. The trouble was that the dream was already beginning to fade as her head cleared. Still, she remembered enough to realize how disjointed it was. The final few minutes she did still remember quiet clearly. She had been at a park in Minnesota, a state that she believed now that she had never been too. It had ended with Michelle surprising her, dressed in a paramilitary uniform when only minutes prior she had been in street clothes. Michelle had shot her, everything had gone dark and than she had woken up startled.

Unbelievable, she thought. With her mind slowly returning the present situation, she found herself crunched in a ball. Her arms wrapped around her upright knees. She was unintentionally making a rocking motion with her body. Coming to her senses now, she abruptly stopped and tried to stand up. Having to grapple onto the towel rack above her, she slowly managed to get back to her shaky feet. A moment later she was standing.

Curiosity than overtook her fear. For the second time she had no memory of who she was. What worried her is this time it felt real. The imagery around her had more of a concrete feeling. It seemed more logical. Moving over to the mirror, she took a second glance. Slowly memories of who she was began flooding her consciousness. A surreal feeling of comfort took hold throughout her being. She felt alive again, and oddly enough, secure. Secure in her surroundings.

The woman looking back at her in the mirror was Michelle Lincoln. A young woman in her mid-twenties looked back at her. The not so unfamiliar feeling of Jamais vu was rapidly reseeding. The girl in the mirror was her. She had straight, chestnut brunette hair down to the small of her back. Her eyes were liquid blue. Exoticness came from her high cheekbones. This gave her a Eurasian look or maybe Native American lineage. Wait, what she thought to herself. Why was she questioning her ancestry? Her mother was Scottish, her father Finnish and Korean.

Letting her hands fall, she felt her robe open with no support from her arms. Her bust spilled out into the open. Well, that might have been a bit arrogant, though they were more than a handful. They were a 34c cups that bordered on 34d(d). They were not natural of course. They had been a gift for her high school graduation. Her father had reluctantly paid for the operation after much pleading and begging on her behalf, and even a bit of encouragement from her own mother.

Letting her eyes fall further, as her palms continued to encase her breasts, she saw her navel and its piercing. Still, lower she saw the first signs of her nether region. She was not clean shaving like many of her friends. She left a little landing strip of hair above her lips. An entirely shaving or waxing had always made her feel like too much of a little girl or a cheap porn actress.

Coming to her senses at that moment, a tremendous awareness of guilt enveloped her. What was she doing? Letting her hands fall to her side, she braced herself as she tightly tied her robe shut. Closing her eyes, she shook her head ever so slight, only to feel the intense ache of what had been a pounding headache. Had she been eyeing herself in the mirror, no not eyeing herself, but rather checking herself out? An unnerving sentiment ran through her, yet at the same time a little thrill went up her spine. When had she become so vain, she thought?

Having enough, she stepped back from the mirror. Somewhat embarrassingly, she picked up the boxers, silky, rather manly trunks of a maroon color and made her exodus from the bathroom after flushing the toilet more than once and washing down the sink as best she could. Out in the hall, she did not bother to stop at her room, but instead made her way forward. Taking pause at the narrow corridor that followed her bedroom. A washer and dryer lined the wall on her right, while a long counter with clothes hangers overhead was on her left. Spotting on clothes basket below the counter, she tossed the soiled boxers in.

Moving out beyond was the foyer. It amounted to little more than a door and a nondescript welcome doormat. To her right was another short corridor that led into the kitchen. A dining room hutch was on the far left hall, while the usual refrigerator, stove, microwave and sink were in an open box arrangement on the other side.

It was only than that her ears picked up on laughter, feminine voices coming from what the room behind the boundaries of the kitchen. Well, that wasn't really true. She had heard the laughter after having exited the bathroom, but had put it out of mind at the time. Though now, she was intrigued.

Moving onward, she peered into the living room. Unlike the other rooms so far, this one was brightly lit by two overhead ceiling fans. One over the portion of the room was what best can be described as a makeshift dining area, which consisted of little more than a table. On the other, the more traditional living room with a sofa and two chairs. A glass coffee table was positioned in front of the sofa and before the two chairs came to an end. The end wall housed a fireplace built into the brick structure of the room.

Only than did she take notice of two lounging faces looking her way. One, the blond, was Cassandra Graham. A tall and leggy woman with straight hair down to her assented curved between her beautiful but oh-so firm buttocks and her lower back. Her eyes were sparkling, though more frosty than her own blue. Maybe being more of the blue-gray variety was a more accurate term. Her bust, a 36b, while not as pronounced as her own, went well on her tall, winding frame of roughly five feet and eleven inches. The girl was almost six feet, and was easily so in a nice pair of high heels.

Beside her was Samantha Eve Carmichael. Everyone called her Eve, she really never like the name Samantha, and her brother was named Samuel, which made for some confusing times for the two of them. Hence, why she liked being called Eve.

A smile came to her lips; Michelle returned the smile, though weakly. The girl was a Latin beauty by way of Texas. She stood five inches removed from the tall blond at five-six. Unlike Cassandra, she had more of a sporty than lengthy figure with 34b breast; something that Michelle had always found intriguing for it was rather unusual. Her rich dark brown hair hung just above the mid of her back. Her face though was her beauty with its cute noise, deep brown eyes and a coy, but wicked smile.

They two women were friends of her older sister. She was rooming with them while she completed her undergraduate work. It had been her older sister's idea. Shauna had made a wonderfully convincing case for getting free room and board. They owed her a favor, and were all to willing to pay back on their debt. What this mysterious debt was had gone unnamed, and to this day, almost a semester later she had no clue, though she did have some theories.

There was only one caveat. Cassandra and Eve were gay, well lesbians or so she had thought. What was true, they were in a relationship having meet when they were undergraduates with her sister and the three were sharing a residence. What would better define them were two girls of fluid sexuality, who on a pendulum moved more toward lesbianism than being straight. Still, they both had an eye for the occasional guy, Eve more so than Cassandra. To the best of her knowledge, neither had ever acted out their impulses, and had remained faithful to each other.

Cassandra was 24 and worked as a paralegal at a local law office, Smith-Klein-Robertson and Associates. Her own dreams of law school on hold because of undergraduate student loan debt.

Eve was 25 and split her time between working as a barista in a coffee house near campus, the Smoked Bean and doing some semi irregular semi-professional photography. Her job as a photographer had at the moment not really panned out, hence the need for a supplemental income from the café. At the moment, she was exploring night classes for a master's degree in public administration from Evergreen State College.

Michelle, only 23 at the moment was two years removed from where she wanted to be in life. To be fair, she had dropped out of school for a while to pursue other interests. None of them had panned out, and before long she found herself back at school and a degree change later she was on the verge of graduation with an undergraduate degree in computer science.

Only than did she realized that they both had long wine glasses in hand. The aroma in the air was not fruity, however. It was of mint smell, a peppermint fragrance really. A little tingle began to settle in her stomach, not of the flu like but rather inviting manner. She knew that she was getting wet as well, and not from the accident in the bathroom moments removed from her mind.

No, it was from the scene laid out before her eyes. Nothing at all provocative about their dress, but they looked and smelt lovely all the same. A bit embarrassing really, she wondered if they could smell her arousal, though doubted it. Michelle thought to herself, "I really need a shower about now."

"So how are you feeling?" Cassandra asked.

More than a hint of a worried tone traced the words as they left her cute lips. Coming over, the taller woman leaned down into her. Cass embracing her in a hug, and Michelle felt breasts pressing into her upper shoulder. A sweet smile forming on her face.

"Huh?" Michelle numbly whispered.

Her ever growing arousal was becoming a bit more of a concern to her. A gently, but ever present throb was starting to arise between her legs. At the moment, it was more of a gently pulse, but in due time it would become a needy ache if she did not get herself away from this situation.

Still, she could not but help looking at either Cass or Eve. Cass still pressed firmly against her was wearing a silky chemise of a floral red orchid print with black lace trim. It felt so silky. Her hands were at the moment resting on at her side, but the material had come into contact with arms as Cass embraced her. She struggled with her own urge not to cup her luscious buttocks with her own palms and grind her pussy into outstretched leg that had come in-between her legs, pressing up against the puffy material of her maroon robe. Not unlike what she had seen the two of them engage in one night when they thought that she had not been present. She had, hidden from view by the darkness of the laundry room.

Looking over at Eve, she saw a look of worry on her face as well. Unlike her friend, Eve was dressed in a simply overhanging gray long sleeve cotton shirt with a pair of black micro fiber boi shorts that had only a hint of lace at the top. Still, she was none the less just as unbelievable sexy. Just as a feeling slightly more intense began to take hold, Eve let go and slowly back away.

"We were a bit worried honey. That looked to be quite the migraine." Eve said.

"So that what's happened, it explained the vomiting upon waking up," she thought to herself. Still, it didn't explain the memory loss or the usually, intense and detailed dream. An eerie and what seemed almost foreboding dream that she remembered very little of by now. What she could not sake was her symptoms at been in reverse. Usually she got an aura, got a headache and nausea, vomited some and fell asleep exhausted. Rarely was she still sick to that degree upon waking up after a migraine attack.

"I'm fine," her voice squeaked. Really it was more of a husk that a squeak. They looked all the more concerned. "I'm serious; I just have a bit of a dry throat... that's all." Well relatively speaking, she was fine. Still, she found a need to vacate for the comfort of her bedroom.

"Ok, honey," Cass sweetly squeaked. This was followed by laughter from both Cass and Eve.

Rolling her eyes, her laughter suppressed by her growing desire, she made a cute face. "I'm going to go grab a shower, I really need one." A long pause, and than, "Maybe, I'll join you guys in a bit."

Now turned, she began to walk back. "Don't count on it, honey," Cass uttered.

Puzzled, Michelle glanced over at them. Eve and Cassandra had one set of their hands joined through the fingers. "We've got some pressing... ah, business to attend to," Eve lustfully countered.

"I wouldn't wait up," Cass mocked. "It might be a while." The words escaping her mouth as she eyed her lover.

The arousal by now was beginning to flood Michelle's being. She wanted so desperately to throw them off there confident little playfulness by asking if she could join them, but she knew that would be really awkward. She was straight, not even bi. She was between boyfriends at the moment, but she was still into men, wasn't she? Oddly, that was a bit of a puzzling question. The answer seemed to be, "No, not really..." she thought.

"I'll see you two tomorrow, I guess," Michelle mumbled more to herself than them. They responded in kind with a bit of laughter.

Making her way back, she rapidly walked back into her bedroom. She was now a bit annoyed. Not just at them, not even really them at all, but rather her bodily response to their implied intentions, and just being in the presence of them. In truth, this had been going on since she had first moved in. Back than she had thought of herself as straight with a bit of a bi-curious edge. This was not all that uncommon with women.

The transformation had come about slowly. At first she only found that she was drawn to them on a curious level. This soon gave way to an emotional need to be around them. Now, recently she was becoming outright aroused when they were present, like tonight. This was embarrassing and bewildering. Her desire for men had pretty much dropped. Fearing that something wrong was going on, she tried to do what many in her place would have done. Michelle tried to fuck the curiousness out of her. It didn't work. The encounters, while only two were not at all satisfying. One with an ex-boyfriend and another, a friend that she met in a prerequisite Astronomy class she was taking.

Carlos, her ex-boyfriend had been as clumsy as ever. He somehow had gotten the impression that endless thrusting with his seven inch cock made all women crust over in waves of orgasmic ecstasy. It had never worked for her, not even when they had been dating. It only hurt, if somehow he didn't go off a few minutes after entering her. That night, about a week ago had been one of those nights. He had wailed away at her for a solid twenty minutes, which might have been a new record for him. Twenty minutes of semi continuous in and out thrusting. Annoyed, she worked her pussy muscles at a fever pitch to eventually get his rocks off. Michelle had not bothered to show him even the remotest sign of pleasure. Afterward, she collected her things and left.

James had been a bit better. He was not blessed like Carlos in the size of his package, but was much more thoughtful. This went a long way with her. At a little over five inches, at least it didn't hurt. He had even offered to go down on her before, she accepted by found his wayward tongue to not really be working to her advantage. Some fairly good sex had followed. Not really passionate parse, but it was better than average. He had lasted long enough for what usually got her off, but that night she just could not seem to push herself over the edge. Sensing that he was about to cum, she faked an orgasm, which even she had to admit seemed pretty convincing and than excused herself to the bathroom.