*This chapter is still about the tease. We'll get to outright sex eventually, so don't you worry!
Thanks for reading. I'm just starting out, so I love feedback, whether it's on tone, feel, spelling, grammar, whatever.*
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What was this.
It...it felt like someone with very big hands was pinching Matt's head between two fingers, then releasing it for a second, and then doing it again. Or like his head was stuck between two elevator doors opening and closing and opening and closing. Matt tried to open his eyes, and couldn't. His face was pushed down into some pillows, and all he could feel was a thump, thump, thump coming from inside his head and echoing into the rest of his body like a jackhammer in a parking lot. He let out a pitiful moan.
Holy shit did he have a hangover. Was this a hangover? This was unlike any hangover he'd ever had.
Where was he? Was it Monday? Did he need to get into the office? He ordered his brain to move his hand, which was sprawled to the other side of the bed, and feel for Anna. His arm reluctantly and clumsily obeyed, flopping from one part of the bed to the other. Nope. No Anna.
Where was she? He opened his eyes and let a little light in. It hurt. He moaned again and turned back into the pillows. He breathed in, trying to alternate his breathing from the thumping in his head.
Alright. He'd have to get up. He took a deep breath, bang went his head again in between the elevator doors, and pushed himself up off the bed, and then before he could tell it was happening he fell off the bed and onto granite floor. The impact hit with the same timing as whatever was banging on the inside of his brain and the sharp cold pain of the floor smacked through his body.
"Oh God," he said. His whole body hurt. He took a second, the pain oscillating from one side of his body to the other, but it was dark down here too. "Oh boy."
His whole body was also cold.
Wait, why was it cold? Where were his clothes? Was he naked? Yes, he was. And his whole naked body hurt and shivered.
He took in another breath and pushed himself off the floor to kneel at the bed. Anna was on the far opposite side of the huge bed, too far for his hungover arm to have reached. She was also naked, laying on her back, her arms and legs everywhere, her body contorted like she'd walked in and collapsed on the bed. Or, he thought for a second, like she been tossed there. What a strange thing to think, tossed. He looked more closely, squinting to block out the light. Anna's breasts heaved heavily with her heavy breaths, dropping a little groundwards and billowing up against a pillow. Matt stared at her tiny nipples, licking his dry lips, and found himself looking downward to see if he could see her pussy, but no, it was lost in the jungle of blankets and pillows.
His head banged against itself, reminding him that he needed to a) get dressed, b) find some Advil, c) figure out what the hell was going on.
He stood up. Gravity pulled him downwards and he stumbled a bit. Ok. Where were his clothes from before the nap. Oh, yes the nap. That's what he'd taken. He'd drank the smoothie, put some clothes away, then taken a nap. Anna was on the porch. Her tits pushing upwards. Wait what? Oh and the sound of the ocean.
They must have been so tired from flying. This must have been one of those jet lag two-hour naps. But why the headache?
He opened a drawer and put on some boxer briefs, closed the drawer, and then stumbled around the bed. He squinted and looked through the tinted black glass wall.
Someone was in the apartment. Matt squinted, forcing back the headache for a second. The someone was a woman, doing something in the kitchen. He refocused his eyes. There were fingerprints on this side of the glass wall. Where those his fingerprints? There was more on the glass wall, the outline of a body, with some kind of dripped stains all the way down the glass. The same fluid had, apparently, dolloped onto the floor too.
Matt noticed that it also smelled strange in here. Like sweat. And...something else. Something sweet, but pungent.
His head reminded his body that it hurt like hell. Matt cringed. What the fuck had happened during his nap? He stumbled out of the room and into the hallway. "Hello?" he asked, his voice sounding unlike his own, more like a dying frog. And dammit, the light was so goddamn bright from the ocean. The sun was high in the sky.
The woman at the kitchen counter said something, but Matt didn't hear her. He was too busy staring. The woman was tall, with long dark black hair that was pulled back with a headband and cascaded downwards halfway down her back. She was wearing a fashionable white, knitted, see-thru beach cover-up that stretched the length of her body, itself lending her body even more of a sense of curvaceousness. Underneath the cover-up was, of course, her ass, covered by a strikingly bright red one-piece that crawled up the middle of her butt cheeks and reached around her thighs. When she turned around, Matt audibly gasped.
This woman was, without question, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. The red one-piece was stylish; classy, classic even, almost like a Cindy Crawford era scoop swimsuit. It could have looked dated, but on this woman, the swimsuit looked timeless. *She* looked timeless. From her ass, the swimsuit barely covered her pussy, and then traveled upwards, giving her large breasts room to hang just a little on the sides, like someone had dared them. The cover-up accentuated the spreading cleavage of her breasts. Finally his eyes made it up to her face, which was mature, even a little wrinkled, but striking. Lush lips, high cheekbones, a pointed nose, and absolutely gorgeous eyes. Matt wanted to look down again at her, to take a second pass, but he couldn't take his eyes off of hers; they were green, set in perfectly applied eyeliner, like emeralds deep in coal.
"Hello Matthew," she said. Her accent was thick, almost Italian, but, somehow even more exotic. Her eyes pierced back at Matt and then her gaze traveled to Matt's boxer briefs.
Oh yeah, he remembered: he was pretty much naked.
"Oh, shit, yes, let me get some clothes on," he mumbled, his face turning red.
"No," said the woman. "That's not necessary. Your American underwear is basically swim trunks." Her accent reminded Matt of a slightly more modern version of a 1930s Turner Class Movie era Mid-Atlantic actress accent, glamorous and sophisticated. "Come here, Matthew. Be polite. Shake my hand."
It felt odd to walk up to a strange woman in only his boxers, but only for a moment; whatever in his brain that would've have stopped him from walking up, naked, to a beautiful women, that thought quickly disappeared after hearing her voice. After he started walking toward her, Matt felt like he should've done it in the first place, without her saying anything.
Up close, the woman was even more stunning. Her skin flawless, tanned but not unnaturally. And she smelled like nothing he'd smelled before: salt, beach salt, with a hint of field flowers, the grassy kind that grows on an untouched beach, and the wind. Could someone smell like the wind? The woman was in almost every way the beach, embodied in the shape of a woman.
She stepped out from behind the island counter and reached out her hand like she was presenting a gift. Which, Matt thought as he saw it extend for him, her hand was a gift; Matt was going to get to touch this woman. As their hands met she slid her right hand into Matt's and then brought her other hand from the folds of the cover-up and placed it on top of Matt's wrist. Her hands were warm and soft, but firm. And instead of letting go, she was softly moving her fingers over his hand, almost massaging it, as if she was getting to know the contours of his hand by touching it all over. He breathed in a breath. His cock twitched instinctively, again (it'd been doing that a lot since yesterday), and he wondered if the woman had noticed.
"I'm Karen. I own this property. My husband and I live through there," she nodded to the wall through the hallway and the sliding door, which was now open. "You had quite a night," she said, letting go of his hand and turning back around to the counter.
When she turned away, it was colder for a moment, like when the sun hides behind a cloud for a second on a cloudy day. Matt glanced over to the front of the apartment and noticed a pile of clothes right by the door. He couldn't quite tell but it looked like his and Anna's, from before their nap.
Wait, what did she say? "Night?" Matt asked, "Not night. You mean. Nap. We took a quick nap." Matt said. He glanced towards the clothes at the door.
"No, honey," he could almost hear her smiling, "you were out all night." She nodded to a clock on the oven. "It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon."
Matt's stomach sank and he put his hand on the counter. His headache had been absent, gone since he'd seen Karen a few minutes ago, but it suddenly returned with a vengeance, like those two elevator doors. "Ouch," he said, stepping back, putting his hand to his temple. "Sorry. What do you mean all night?"
Karen turned around with a smile that shined. God she was stunning. God, god god. She was holding a cup of something hot. "I checked in on you both this morning, but you weren't up yet. I figured 2 o'clock is long enough to recover. I thought I'd make something for you both. Here. Try this. It's tea. My own special blend."
