Key Word = Escape
Word Limit = 333 words
Word Restrictions = Racquetball, lover, sunlight, morning
Bonus Points = Tell us about a time when you had to escape yourself.
She needed to escape! The words pounded in her head, her blood pumping with nervousness as she looked behind her at the bed. What was his name? Shit, she needed to know. It was important, imperative, she remember his name. Normally, it wouldn't matter in the slightest. She reached for her little black dress, searching for her panties and bra. Where the hell were her shoes?
Her head pounded, from stress or the hangover she wasn't sure. Her phone buzzed again, another friend texting about the chaos of the Boston lock-down. He stirred, and she froze in panic. Her friends had nothing to complain about, she was the one waking up next to a practical stranger, after having spent a drunken passion filled night...and she still couldn't remember his name. And now she couldn't sneak away in the perfect-one-night-stand-disappearing-act-routine.
Right when she located her bra and went to put it on, he opened his eyes, and looked directly at her. A sleepy smile appeared on the stubbly face, eyes slightly red but amazingly a vivid blue greeted her. She always did have a thing for dark hair and blue eyes. "Hey sexy," she whispered, trying to come up with a plan, a statue of nervousness, still holding her bra. Who needed a plan, her foggy brain rationed, she had breasts. She threw her bra to the floor and slipped between the covers, caressing his back, his arm automatically going around her.
"Hello Miranda," his voice had a husky timbre to it. Shit, he remembered her name. She began nibbling on his neck, stalling, arching and pressing her breasts against him, feeling his chest hairs sliding across her nipples. She reached down and felt his hardened reaction. First sex, she decided, next joke about how she calls him god from now on, and then more sex. What else was there to do in a locked down city with a stranger?
**I was inspired by this blog after reading about a man stuck in an apartment, during the Boston lockdown with a one night stand (someone he did know, thankfully) and her roommate. He talked about how he lost the dignity of slipping away the next day, and how awkward it was.
Once, when I was younger (and dumber), and handcuffed by the police, I had to escape the cuffs. I smoked cigarettes then, and the officer graciously allowed me to smoke, even lighting it for me, as he awaiting another officer. However, I couldn't smoke with no hands, I just wasn't that talented. So I slipped one hand through the cuff to smoke. He couldn't believe that I could escape that easily. Fun fact, I can collapse my hand to the size of my wrist (which is tiny to be sure). It hurts, and I don't ever do for that reason, and I never take advantage of it when I am tied up; however, it's comforting knowing that I have that option to escape.
By the way, I have no criminal record. I was not handcuffed for committing crime, simply being around the wrong (awesome) people at the wrong time, it would seem.