Yes, I’m well aware that it is no longer Friday. You are now well aware that I don’t care.
Prompt: Something wrapped.
Here we go!
This is not my bed.
It wasn’t the most reassuring thought to wake up to, but it certainly wasn’t the first time it had happened. Jeff cracked his eyes open and looked around the room, trying to figure out if he’d been here before and how far he was from home. He appeared to be alone in the bed, naked, and tangled in a mess of rumpled sheets.
Strangely, he had far less memory of the night before than he’d had with previous, similar encounters. He remembered going down to the pub, with no specific intent of meeting anyone (but never ruling it out completely, of course). Beyond that, the night was a scattered collection of blurred images. Jeff realized he couldn’t even picture the face of whomever he’d gone home with. He knew where he’d been sitting in the bar, had looked over at the row of pool tables, and saw…someone. There were a pair of red stilettos, and he had a vague recollection of the intoxicating scent that wafted from her.
The fragrance clung to the pillows around him, and he buried his face in the nearest one, inhaling deeply. His mind reeled giddily, and flashes of the night came back to him. Somehow they’d gotten to her place, though he was pretty sure he hadn’t driven and couldn’t remember getting into a car. There had been a moment of frustration when he wasn’t able to operate his belt (I must have had more to drink than I thought, he mused) and then she had come to him in the dark, her low-pitched laughing rendered him incoherent, and after that it was like his clothes had simply melted off. He had no idea when she’d taken off her own clothes, but at some point he’d fallen onto the bed and she followed him down. The rest was mostly unclear, but Jeff knew that at one time it felt like something large and warm had wrapped around them both. It wasn’t just the sheets winding around them, it had been something else. He started to get a mental image of a voluptuous, pale body above him, and behind it, great shapes unfolding and stretching, like…wings?
“You’re losing it, man,” he said to himself. He tried sitting up, but found he had amazingly little strength, and the best he could do was roll onto one side, propped on his elbow.