I crawled out of sleep, disoriented.
Where was I?
I blinked my bleary eyes and tried to focus.
I was on the floor. Inside my living room. A couple of inches from the door.
How had I gotten inside?
Who’d driven me home?
The last thought I have was Tega feeling me up on the dance floor. And it hadn’t even been a dance floor. Just us circling by the overcrowded bar.
Had he brought me home?
But he didn’t own a car.
A cab. He must have rented a cab.
How had he gotten my keys?
From my purse.
I scanned for my purse. Found it sprawled by my left foot. The key ring was lying beside it.
Since my clothes were still intact, I guessed he didn’t try anything. Anything that involved taking off my clothes, at least.
I inhaled, heaved off the floor and staggered in the direction of the bedroom.
I needed to bathe and get ready for work. The paycheck, after all, will take care of tonight’s clubbing.
Kobi dressed for dinner with a trepidation that worried her. It was Naeto and she enjoyed being with him. She liked him. There was even an unconscious attraction but… but there were no deep feelings.
She wasn’t in love with him.
That was what worried her, wasn’t it? She didn’t love him. She didn’t want to love him.
She was incapable of loving him.
EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.
JETH always believed that when he was ready for love and for marriage, he would feel a certain kind of quickening in his spirit. A foreknowledge elucidated by a possible growing feeling of an emptiness that hadn’t been there before and that required filling. It would be nothing impulsive, nothing unanticipated and definitely, nothing sudden. It would instead be a slow, steady and meditatively thought out feeling and he would find himself prepared, in every way, to take whatever steps were demanded of him.
He had thought like this most of his adult life. Well, not quite most of it. But long enough that he couldn’t recall never thinking that way.
SHE had lost another job.
This should not keep happening to her, not with a name like Prudence. Prue sighed, tucked out the limp pillow from underneath her bum and stared about the only room of her one bedroom apartment before she tossed the pillow to the other end of the bed.
THE jarring noise punctured my eardrums, pierced into my subconscious and destroyed my lavish sleep and picturesque dream.
Damn! I hated alarm clocks.
I flung out my hand and slapped quiet the one blaring on my bedside table. Then muttered a curse against it—damned inopportune object!