The next morning, I woke up feeling like I was floating on a cloud of blissfully ignorant post-coital haze. My body was still humming with the aftershocks of what had happened in that bedroom, and for a few precious minutes, I was completely unaware of the absolute storm that was currently brewing.
I took my time getting ready for work, relishing the way my muscles ached in the best way possible. I chose a silk blouse that felt cool against my sensitized skin, checked the mirror to make sure my high collar covered the frantic marks on my neck, and headed downstairs. I was actually humming to myself, thinking about the look Eryx would give me over my morning coffee, but the sound died in my throat the second my feet hit the living room floor.
Mom was already there, but she wasn't her usu
