I awoke suddenly, aware of a warm light against my eyelids. I ehxaled deeply and stretched out, but froze when I realized the sheets felt unfamiliar against my bare skin. My eyes shot open and I sat up swiftly, taking in what appeared to be a hotel room.
"Ah, good morning beautiful," a deep, British accent said from across the room. I regarded the owner of the voice; a tall, slender, tattooed lad with green eyes and a mop of dark curls. My breath caught in my throat when I realized it was none other than Harry Styles. An extremely naked Harry Styles.
I groaned aloud, and pressed my fingertips to my eyes- how in the HELL had I gotten into this one?
I felt the weight shift in the bed as he sat next to me. A warm pair of arms snaked around me, and soft lips pressed to my shoulder. "Feeling alright?" he asked.
I looked at him, bewildered, and he laughed at the expression on my face, leaning in close with his lips an inch from mine. It took me a moment before I was able to ask, "What are we doing here?"
It was his turn to look bewildered. He backed away a bit and responded, "We spent the night together..."
I shot up off the bed, turning to face him, disregarding my nudity. Being a stripper, I was used to being naked. He, however, wasn't so unaware of it. His eyes traveled up and down my body, and he bit his lip as he looked into my eyes, waiting for me to say something. "I... Um.. Well, we... hmph," was all I could manage.
He stood up, and walked over to me, grinning. He was just reaching out to put his hands on my hips when I blurted out, "Shower!", and ducked past him into the bathroom.
I barely waited for the water to warm up before hopping in. I shut the curtain quickly and turned, feeling the water running down my face onto my body. I was extremely confused at my situation. I remembered going in to work at the club the night before, I remembered going out for my solo number, and I remembered giving some lap dances, but nowhere in my recollection was the memory of getting into bed with one of the most famous men on Earth. ... I wasn't even a big fan of One Direction. How did I end up spending a night with Harry Styles, and more importantly, why didn't I remember it?
I shook my head. It was just far too weird. I mean, I was a barely-legal, small-time stripper working a club in the Red Light District of Amsterdam. Being a curvaceous size 16, I had some 'Specialty Item' feature nights, but other than that, I was a literal nobody. Just a working girl looking to make enough cash to keep her swanky loft in Leideseplein.
I froze as another body entered the shower. I ignored him at first, knowing he had a completely unobscured view of my naked ass. I felt his hands on my hips as he softly said, "I thought you could use some company."
I turned to face him, aware of how stupid I probably looked, glaring up at him, soaking wet and completely naked. He was apparently thinking the complete opposite. "God, you're beautiful," he said. He placed a hand on the back of my neck and leaned down to kiss me. His lips were warm and sweet, and despite my best efforts, I melted into his touch. After a few moments, he pulled away, and smiled.
I was the first to speak, "Okay, Harry, really. How did we get here?"
He looked down at me, one eyebrow raised. "We went out for drinks, had a good time, and ended up here?"
Damn it. Alcohol. I was a total lightweight, which explained my complete mental blank. "You're going to have to give me a little more to go off of."
"You don't remember a thing, do you?" he questioned, looking a little downtrodden.
I closed my eyes, embarassed. Next thing I knew, he pulled me into a huge, wet naked hug, and rested his chin on the top of my head. I felt him laughing quietly.
