you turn me on, you turn me on
you have to know
Sunday, July 2 || Morning
Something was different, and Vera was much too asleep yet to figure out exactly what it was.
The sunlight was at the regular angle, the sheets felt familiar, the man she was curled up against was warm and breathing steadily.
Vera opened her eyes.
No, that last bit was neither a hallucination nor a dream.
Roger ... what did we ...
She sat up, the sheet slipping down around her waist. Through the open doorway she could see the remnants of last night's activity. Some of the dinner dishes, a half-melted candle. Past that she couldn't see, but if her rapidly returning memory served, the normally perfectly aligned living room furniture would be ... a bit askew.
A red silk glove lay on the floor near the bed. She had no idea where the other might be.
Vera looked back down at Roger. I don't suppose you remember, do you? If we can't find it, I suppose ... oh. A half-embarrassed smile slipped over her face as she reached out and traced one of the marks on his shoulder. I never did warn you. Sorry.
After a few moments more, Vector called her bathrobe over to her, shrugged it on and padded as silently as possible to the lavatory.