Chapter Seven

Kaitlyn

I gasp and sit bolt upright in bed, my breathing ragged and my pulse pounding. I look around, feeling disoriented and confused. Sunlight streams through my bedroom window and when I look at the clock, I see that it's coming up on noon.

“What the hell?” I mutter as I slip out of bed and pad across to my bathroom.

My head is pounding and my throat is dry. I grab the bottle of aspirin from my cabinet and shake three into my hand. Turning on the faucet, I pop the pills into my mouth and scoop several handfuls of water, relishing the feel of the cool water sliding down my throat.

Looking down at myself, I see that I'm still in the dress I wore to the studio party the night before – but I have no idea how I got home. The last thing I remember, I'd fallen asleep on the couch with Nyro. But the memory is fuzzy. Hazy. It doesn't seem real.

I walk back into my room and sit down on the edge of my bed, running a hand through my hair, working out the knots that had cropped up, trying to figure out what happened to me last night. Reaching under my skirt, I feel my eyes grow a little wider when I realize that my panties are gone.

At least I know it wasn't a dream and I'm not crazy – I really had slept with Nyro. And as the memory of having sex with Nyro floats through my mind, I feel my cheeks flush. The sex had been great. Amazing.

“Thank, God. I was beginning to think you were dead.”

I look up and see Ashley standing in my doorway, a crooked little smile on her face and a look of worry in her eyes.

“H – how did I get here?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I don't know, I assume that whoever you screwed last night brought you home,” she says and laughs. “I heard you stumbling in around four this morning.”

“I barely remember last night,” I say.

“Apparently you took my advice to loosen up a little too much to heart last night.”

“I wasn't drinking,” I say, the thick blanket of confusion wrapping itself around me tighter. “At least, not that much.”

She comes in and sits beside me on the bed, looking at me with a concerned expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

“I – I think so,” I say. “I just don't remember a lot about last night.”

Ashley takes my hand, the worry in her eyes deepening. “Were you drugged? Did he –”

I shake my head as bits and flashes of the night before drift through my mind. My body tingles as I remember having him inside of me. I hear my voice, telling Nyro that I wanted it. As my head begins to clear, the memories begin to flood back in.

“No,” I say. “I was willing. I went home with him. I just – it's just weird. It's like he had some kind of a spell over me or something.”

Ashley wraps her arms around me and pulls me close. “I was so worried about you,” she says. “When I came back to the table and found you gone –”

“I'm fine. I swear it,” I say. “It was just a – weird – night.”

She leans back, my hands still in hers. Ashley is looking at me with a sly grin on her face.

“What?” I ask.

“So, who was this mystery guy?”

“His name is Nyro,” I say. “I – didn't you send him over to the table? He said he worked with Rick Mason.”

Ashley bites her bottom lip and looks like she's trying to remember last night as hard as I am. After a moment, she looks at me and shrugs.

“I dunno,” she says. “Maybe I did and just don't recall. I had a few drinkies and was doing a lot of – networking – for the both of us last night. I might have.”

“Networking, huh?” I ask. “What's his name?”

A wide smile spreads across her face. “Brian,” she says. “And Tommy. They're stuntmen for the studio.”

I look at her, eyes wide, my mouth hanging open. “Are you telling me –”

I see the color flare in her cheeks, but her smile never falters. “At the same time,” she says. “It was amazing. Best night of my life. I can't believe I waited so long to have a threesome.”

I laugh and give her hand a squeeze. “You're such a whore.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“You're lucky I do.”

“Breakfast?” she asks brightly. “I mean – lunch?”

“Sure,” I say. “Let me just shower first.”

“Probably a good idea.”

Ashley flounces out of my room and I stand up, going back into the bathroom again and close the door behind me. As fragments of memory of the night before continues to come back to me, the confusion only deepens. I remember seeing something glowing around Nyro. Remember the heat that spread throughout my body when he came. Remember the surrealistic feeling of the whole night – like I was walking through a dream.

I know I wasn't drugged – but by the same token, I don't feel like I was in complete control of myself either. But until I figure it out or gain some more clarity, I'm not going to tell Ashley about it. She'll only freak out and that's the last thing either of us need right now.

Reaching into the shower, I turn it on and let the water heat up. With steam billowing around, filling up the small bathroom, I step in a few moments later and wince at the almost scalding water as it hits my skin. I step beneath the spray of water and let the heat pour down over me. I stand beneath it as long as I can before I'm forced to turn the temperature down.

I lean my forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as the water washes down over me. As I stand there, trying to clear my mind, I see again, the glow around Nyro's body. I see his eyes glowing with an inner light, making them shimmer a golden color.

And then a new memory surfaces – one that leaves me rattled and more confused than before.

I remember being stretched out on his couch. Naked. I remember waking up and seeing Nyro, his eyes glowing, that strange aura around his body. He was speaking softly in a language I didn't recognize, his head thrown back, one hand on my belly. I remember looking down and seeing the hand resting on my stomach was glowing and I recall a strange feeling inside of me. Aside from the heat upon my skin, it felt like there was something alien crawling around, twisting and wriggling, inside of me.

I remember crying out and seeing Nyro's eyes fall onto me. I remember seeing a dark look, an expression of pure anger upon his face. I recall that he put a hand against my forehead, said a few strange words in that stranger language he spoke, and then I knew no more.

Not until I'd woken up in my bed.

It all seems so clear. And yet – I can't shake the feeling that it's all nothing more than a dream. That it hadn't really happened anywhere other than in my head while I slept. It all sounds too ludicrous – too absurd – to be anything but a bizarre dream, right?

I put my hand on my stomach and swear I can feel something twisting and turning around inside of me. I almost cry out until I take a deep, steadying breath and push the thought away. It's ridiculous. I'm an actress. A woman with a powerfully active imagination. I tell myself that the whole thing with Nyro glowing and doing some sort of weird ritual – implanting something inside of me – is nothing more than a dream.

It has to be. Because nothing else makes sense.

I finish washing myself and climb out of the shower, toweling myself off. The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds and the more I want to laugh at myself. Because it's absolutely absurd, the more I think about it, the more I realize it has to be a dream or the product of an overactive imagination fueled by a couple of Cosmos. It's too outlandish and bizarre to be anything else.

By the time I'm dressed and ready, I'm feeling a little more grounded in reality and better. Not just better, actually. I feel good. Really good. I feel better than I've felt in a long time. Maybe ever. It's a little strange, but I push the thoughts away and simply enjoy the feeling.

I have no idea why, but I feel like a whole new me. And hungry. I'm suddenly famished. I walk out into the living room, ready to go.

“Let's go, whore,” I call out, giggling. “I'm starving.”