Waking in Sarah's Arms

Last night was a rush, but this morning was... amazing. When I woke up, I found myself on the cold hard-wood floor, cuddled in Sarah's arms, her chest heaving, her warm breath sliding over my cheeks.

I remember Sarah leading me to the couch around three in the morning. I had too much to drink and she was trying to keep me from batting my eyelashes at a young blonde-haired boy with blue eyes and eyelashes, that drove up that night from Nevada with his older brother Jonathan. The boy would have been a superb bed-mate; but alas, Sarah had other plans.

Last thing I remember, Sarah pulled me into the living room, pushed me onto the couch, and covered my body with a dark blue goose-down comforter. My mind swirled with boozey warmth and I felt her cold lips touch my forehead. "Night sleepy-head," she said, "Don't get up. I'll keep an eye on you."

I don't remember moving from the couch to the floor, nor do I remember Sarah joining me under the sheets, but there we were, huddled on the floor under the soft blue comforter, our arms entwined, the breath from our lungs passing back and forth from nose to mouth and back again. It was like a dream.

If only for a moment, I felt as if our bodies were one, as if we could feel each other's thoughts, share each other's feelings.

How did I get here? Did we kiss? Suddenly, I was distracted by Sarah's soft facial features. I can barely describe her to you and really need to find a photograph. She is a Eurasian girl with stunning, long black hair and Asian facial features, only improved by a cotton, powdery-tan, caucasian skin.

Relaxed and comforted, I slipped my hand under the covers and stroked the fingernail of my pinky finger over Sarah's belly button, only to realize that she was still fast asleep.

Fearless, I shifted my weight, rolled into her embrace, and looked under the covers to notice that her long pajama pants were crinkled up near her feet and she wore a silvery-grey bra and thin, white, semi-translucent thigh huggers that shown almost peach under the dim morning light.

She woke suddenly awake, though without even the slightest nervous gesture or confused look. She knew where she fell asleep. She made that concious decision and didn't regret. I admire that. More than that, though, Sarah knew I didn't remember. She saw the unanswered questions, the yearning, the apprehension.

"What did I do last night?" I asked her.
"Nothing sweety," she said. "I made sure you were safe from that pesky boy. Girls stick together, don't you forget that."
"Right," I said.

And we both knew that no more questions were necessary. We smiled at each other and walked to the kitchen giggling, hand in hand. We prepared pancakes with maple syrup and strong black coffee.