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The morning sun burned into my eyes as I tried to open them against the light.
Crap, why is it so bright?
Suddenly my eyes opened wide, shooting my head to the side of me to where I knew Lexa had fallen asleep, from what I would remember from last night, or early this morning.
I was exhausted.
The rumpled discarded sheets next to me were deserted and cold, only an echo of the body who had laid there, her scent still clung to the air. And me.
A momentary pang of loss struck me before I caught myself and pulled myself from the bed, determined to continue with my life as I had done before this.
That included going to work at the library today. We were having a delivery of new books, and it was all hands on deck tonight. It was at the restaurant again.
Images of the night flashed before my eyes, hands that sought out every piece of my body to soothe and excite, plush red lips that left their mark in places that I could only have imagined in some deep dark fantasy.
I jumped into the shower, quickly washing away the traces of my night with Lexa, they weren't so easy to wash from my memory, and goodness help me, but I really didn't want to.
Checking to make sure I had everything I needed, I left I would pick something to eat on my way.
Just opposite the library was the most delightful cafe; it always smelled freshly baked cake and bread and freshly brewed coffee.
"Good morning Mrs. Balil." I smiled brightly as I skipped into the store.
Mrs. Balil was a wonderfully sweet woman in her early fifties. Although she looked twenty years younger, her skin still soft and unworried by time, she smiled back at me.
"Hello, Melissa, you look different this morning." She cocked her head to the side as she took me in.
"Oh." I blushed. Can she tell I had sex with a woman?
Was it like they said to pregnant women?
"I think something good happened, am I right?" She beamed her bright white smile clear.
"Maybe."
"I see, this is wonderful news, same as usual, dear?"
"Yes, extra donuts Richie just eats them all. He is like a bottomless donut pit."
Mrs. Balil laughed. "He is a growing boy, my dear; they are all the same."
"When do they stop growing?" And stealing all the best food?
"Well, there is bad news, dear, my husband is sixty, and he is still growing."
Damn.
The sweet lady poured my usual coffee orders and loaded a box with donuts, extra added, of course, to stem the appetite of a very greedy guy.
