Amy’s story

Dear Amy

Click here for the episode that started it.
Click here for the previous effort where they climbed into bed with me.

So I’ve got to tell you after a week of being woken up at some stupid hour of the morning and finding a hunky stranger, or two, in my house I was getting just a little bit annoyed. But the straw that really broke the camel’s back was yesterday morning when my sleep was interrupted but two semi naked beefcakes laying beside me in bed and I fell asleep. That’s right I fell asleep.

So last night I decided that if either of my two hunks turned up I was going to go on the defensive and I was going to demand answers. I decided that I didn’t care if they woke me in bed or I had to go to them, I was not going to be woken again without getting answers.

hr2

Given the lack of conversation I’d had from my two strangers up until now I was preparing myself for a longer and possibly more drawn out session of stupidity by going to bed early and attempting to get some reasonable sleep before being woken. I went to bed at 10pm, making sure that my clock was not only set but that it’s battery backup was connected.

As is so often the case when you know you need to wake up at a particular time your internal stupid clock, the one that lets you sleep, malfunctions and you spend as much of the night waking up as you do asleep…maybe that only happens to me. So anyway I woke up at 11:02pm, 11:57pm. 12.53am and 1:43am, each time my clock was still ticking away. I don’t for sure know what it was that told me my strangers weren’t waiting each time I woke but the fact was I sensed nothing and fell back asleep quickly.

So when I next woke and the clock was flashing I was somewhat surprised. Not so much because there was no one laying beside me but because I knew I’d checked and double checked the clock’s battery before turning my light off.

Throwing the covers off I sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed at the alarm clock. Pulling it towards me I didn’t need the light on to rip the battery cover off and realise that the battery compartment was empty. I don’t swear often, I know all the words and how to spell them but I don’t often use them but I remembered using one as I tossed my clock back down onto the bedside table.

“What the fuck?” I said to the empty room.

hr2

As the clock bounced I pushed myself off the bed and headed out of the bedroom. I didn’t know for sure that I had any visitors but the flashing clock was a good indication. I walked, in a graceful manner, down the hallway and with no intention of making coffee I was headed straight for the dinning room table.

As I stepped onto the cold tiled floor I flicked the switch that would turn the kitchen light on. As the light is a fluorescent tube I knew it would take a second or two before the starters kicked in and allowed the tube to illuminate. That few seconds would mean by the time I reached the dinning room table the room would be well lit.

Now I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking that I walked into the room and sitting on the table was the battery from my clock, no beefcakes just a battery. Well you are half right.

You are right that there was no hunky beefcakes, but lets face it that was pretty obvious wasn’t it? But for those who thought there would be a battery sitting on the table, you too are wrong. In actuality I still don’t know where that battery is even as I sit here writing this while eating my lunch some nine hours later.

So what did I find?

hr2

I found a single sheet of paper, folded and standing upright like a little tent. For the second time in less than ten minutes I swore and again it was the word starting with F.

I was tempted to leave the little tent where it was and return to bed. Tempted to just leave the paper and deal with it in the morning but of course I didn’t, I walked over to the table and picked it up.

Holding it in my hand I could see that it was folded once in half. Still tempted to leave the note I fought the urge and unfolded it. Not only was the bloody thing scented with my own perfume but it was embossed with a light coloured rose border. The paper had come from my own collection.

Strangely I wasn’t that surprised. To be honest even if I was surprised that it was my paper that surprise would have been quickly over powered by the surprise at the words written on the page.

Leaning towards the kitchen light I began to read the note.

Dear Amy.

P.………