Honoria
McCormick has just started a new job at a small, regional theatre in
Tennessee. Most recently from Orlando, Florida, she's finding
adjusting a little more challenging than she thought. However, she met
the apprentices at the theatre, and had dinner with them at their
house. Late at night, she gets back to the cabin, where she's
staying, and gets ready for bed.
Once
in her nightshirt, Honoria dashed to the bed, turning off the light
in the bathroom as she passed. It was chilly in the house and the
thought of warm blankets and soft pillows was appealing. Jumping in
the bed, she flung the blankets over her head, cuddling up for
warmth. Suddenly, she became aware of the fact she wasn't alone. A
warm, hard bodied form snuggled up behind her. A heavily muscled arm
flopping over her waist. It was obviously a male body and he was very
warm, alive and in her bed!
Screaming
like Lisa had when the lizard jumped on her, Honoria launched herself
out of the bed, holding the coverlet around herself for warmth and
protection. The lamp beside the bed came on and a frowzy looking man
with dark hair and a goatee sat up, staring at her.
"Who
the hell are you?" she screeched.
"Who
are you?" he inquired calmly, scratching his chest.
Honoria
shivered, unable to ignore the muscular form under the sheet.
"Ted
Bundy," he replied with a smirk.
"Oh,
be serious."
"Jeffry
Dahmer?"
"Seriously.
Who?"
"Groucho
Marx."
"Who
the hell are you?" She picked up her shoe, ready to hurl it at
him. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was all she had.
He
seemed to be amused and trying hard not to laugh at her. "I have
to admit, this is the chilliest reception I've ever gotten from a
woman. I wonder if my feelings should be hurt." He lay on his
side, eyeing her as much as she was him.
"I'll
call the cops if you don't tell me who you are and how the hell you
got in my room!"
"Freddy
Prinz. Freddy Mercury? Al Gore. Bill Clinton?"
"Dammit!
Tell me!" She threw her shoe at him.
He
watched it clatter on the other side of the room, missing him by a
yard or so. "Maybe you'll do better with the other one. It's
about six inches stage right."
Honoria
glanced down to see her other shoe. She left it there. "You're
insufferable! I keep asking who you are!"
"I
asked you first," though he hadn't. "Tell me who you are, I'll tell you who I am. That's
how it works. An even exchange of information." He pointed to
her, then himself.
"I'm
Honey."
"Sweet,"
he smirked, laughing openly at her. "Chester," he replied,
holding out his hand without getting up. "But you can call me
Chet. Hell, you can call me anything you want, just get back in bed."
"What
are you doing here?"
"I
work here."
"I
mean—here—here." She motioned wildly with one arm,
indicating the room and the bed.
"Oh.
This is my room. Why are you here?"
"I
work here too. This is where Martha told me to put my stuff."
"She
probably meant the other bedroom," he pointed across the room
and down the hall.
"Other
bedroom? I didn't know there was another one."
"Yeah."
He pointed again. "So, are you coming back to bed?"
"No!"
"Your
loss." He shrugged, his eyes doing a long sweep from her head to
her toes. A slight leer twitched his mouth. "Okay. Well, I need
the blanket back. It's chilly in here. Turn out the light when you
go."
Honey
tossed the blanket at him, grabbed her clothing and toothbrush,
walking across the hall in a snit. The second bedroom was much
smaller, but comfortable. She closed her door with a bang. There was
no lock on the doorknob, so she dragged a chair in front of it,
shoving it under the knob with a clatter. She could hear Chet
laughing as she crawled in the bed, pulling the blankets over her
head. It was nearly 2:00 before she finally fell into a troubled
sleep where shoes with dark hair, goatees and disconcerting eyes
taunted her.
©
2017 Dellani Oakes
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