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.
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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.