Thursday, 16 August 2012

A Night to Remember




I wake up as the summer sun streams through the closed but thinning summer curtains. At first I have that, where am I moment you get when you wake up somewhere unfamiliar. Only it doesn't go away. Where am I? And more to the point, who am I? Strangely I don't feel as panicked as you would expect. Either everything will come back to me once I have woken up properly or there will be something in this room that will give me the spark I need to remember. First I look in the mirror. Pleasantly surprised by what I see, I am gorgeous but I definitely don't feel gorgeous. I am about five feet seven inches tall, blonde and petit with amazing tits. When I say amazing I mean the kind a women would appreciate, not so big that they hurt your back but not so small you look like a boy when dressed. No Tattoos and no scars, possibly a bruise on its way just inside my right thigh and another one on my right wrist. Chances are I've fallen at some point as my head tells me I may have had a beer or two last night. I look around and I am in a bedroom with a king size bed a wardrobe and a dressing table. There is an en-suite bathroom and the towels are embossed. Must be a hotel and a classy one looking at the size of the bed and the thickness of the towels. Hang on a minute, I stink, petrol I think but I'm not sure how I know what petrol smells of. Think I'll clean up before I venture out to find out what's happened.

After I have showered I notice a pile of clothes on a chair in the far corner of the bedroom. A white blouse, black pencil skirt, expensive, but not tarty underwear and under the chair a pair of stilettos. Everything fits so lets assume for lack of evidence to the contrary they must be mine. No sign of a bag or anything that may have a clue to who I am but there is a key card on the dresser. Right I grab the key card and head to the door to check at reception as they must at least know the name I checked in under.

Just then the door bursts open.

'Armed police hit the floor.' Barks a man in black commandoes wearing a balaclava and carrying a bloody big gun.

'What's, what. I don't understand.' I stumble, confused and notice the other officers behind him.

'Just get on the floor with your hands behind your back. I am arresting you for the murder of your husband. He was found in your burnt out car this morning, so once we get back to the station you can start by telling us where you've been all night.'

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