The sounds of the forest fill my ears as I crack my eyes open just the slightest bit. My head is heavy, and I am slumping against something warm, hard… and breathing?
My eyes fill with a blurred field of mottled gray and white. Whatever I’m resting up against smells like cedar and ocean spray. I shake the fog from my brain just enough to push against the warm thing and finally realize that I’m pushing against a chest. Its broad shoulders strain the fabric of the green shirt, the buttons open almost to its navel.
I tilt my head up and take in a strong jaw and closed eyes. I stroke the back of my hand across his burnished and highly arched cheekbones. His skin is so much smoother than mine. The head attached to the chest is a handsome one. As I sit up, I’m finally able to assess the angle at which my body has fallen.
I’m straddling the handsome gray man. He’s a stranger…but why in the world would I be sitting on top of a stranger? Wait…who am I even?
I shift my hips slightly in an attempt to dismount the huge form from beneath me.
The gray man groans. Dragging my green dress up past my belly, he puts his four fingered hands onto my bare hips and pulls me deeper against him.
“What are you doing?” I ask, batting at his well-defined chest, hard enough to get the stranger's attention but not hard enough for him to toss me. I won’t pretend his hardening crotch doesn’t feel good grinding against my quickly heating core. The gray man peeks open one eyelid, and a puzzled look flashes across his features.
“Who, might I ask, are you?” He sounds curious and not at all angry, but I doubt he could be angry as he arches his hips up toward mine. “You know I don’t even care who you are, as long as you stay right there for me.”
His fingers dig deeper into my ample hips as he searches for more friction between us.
“Well, that's probably a good thing,” I squeak out as I feel my pussy slicken. I press my hands against his chest and watch the gray man bite his lip. “Who are you?”
“I…” He unfortunately stops the movement of his hips and confusion knits his brows. “I don’t know.”
My eyes drift up. A strange forest of pink trees surrounds us, the light filtering through their translucent leaves. But the bedroom furniture seems too ornate just to be placed in a forest.
“So neither of us knows who we are,” I look into his blue eyes, “and here we are, in bed, in the woods?”
Sitting up, moving his hands from my hips, then wraps his arms around my waist. The man is taller than I thought, his chin able to rest easily on top of my head. He moves his hands under my ass as he scoots to the edge of the bed and smoothly stands. I feel a little stupid, like a barnacle stuck to something beautiful, but the worry in my chest keeps me clinging tight to his form.
“I don’t know what’s happened, but maybe we should stick together until we figure it out.” He paces toward the treeline.
“This is me sticking to you, literally,” I guffaw nervously. “So, no issues there.”
The man squeezes my ass in what I assume is supposed to be a comforting touch. Maybe we do know each other because his touchiscomforting, among other things. His elbow hits something hard as he turns, and the image of trees and sun fizzes with static around the contact area. We realize the forest isn't real.
“We’re not in the forest, little thing,” he says. “We are in a box of some sort.”
He shifts me to his hip and runs his free hand against the screens as he marks the perimeter of our enclosure. As he gets to the far end, he notices a silver box. With a flip of his thumb, he unlatches the lid and reveals a silver button.
“Do we press it?” I ask, craning my neck around him to look at the dubious little button.
“I don’t think we have another choice, do we?” He steps back, shielding my body from the button before he reaches toward it. “Do I have your consent to push it?”
“Um, sure, I mean, if you think it’s a good idea.”
I grip his body harder as he presses the shiny chrome button. He brings his hand back quickly and guards my head, as if I’m the most precious cargo in the world. A gentle digital voice fills the room.
“Panic room stable, oxygen levels and environmental factors appropriate for both fi’len and human occupants. No active intruder found, palace currently intact. Two hours of the twelve-hour time delay remain until doors unlock. Rations can be dispersed by depressing button for five seconds.”
The voice is gone as quickly as it arrives.
“We were passed out forten hours?” I ask incredulously.
“It appears as though we have another two hours before we’re released as well,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed, shifting my body with ease once again to straddle him.
“We must know each other, right? Maybe something happened to our memories. Is that even possible?”
“There are many parts of myself that feel like they know you, that know your body at least.” He winks.
It must be true though, because that statement coming from someone I didn’t know would put me on edge, wouldn’t it?
