Saralinda
Copyright© 2010 by Gray Beard
Chapter 2: Saralinda
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 2: Saralinda - Gary stops a young woman from jumping off a bridge, and then whisks her away to see if she'd like to live a different kind of life.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Romantic Harem Polygamy/Polyamory Slow
Hushalinda, Saralinda, Don't you cry
You're gonna turn into a butterfly
Pretty, oh so pretty that it makes me sigh
Hushalinda, Saralinda, Butterfly
Gentle rocking, rolling, rocking, rolling. So cozy, so comfortable, so warm. All except for that ache. Why am I so sore? Oh, it's just the waistband of my pants digging into me. Huh? Wait a minute. Why am I wearing clothes in bed? What the... ? Where am I? WHERE AM I? Awake.
I was not expecting what I saw when I opened my eyes. I certainly wasn't in my bed. Light filtered through green curtains into a small room. I was wearing jeans and a blouse with an itchy collar and my bra felt too tight. Was the room really rocking, or was it all in my head? Same for that deep throbbing noise – was that real too?
I tried to remember. I tried to remember anything. Then the knot in my stomach came back and I wished I could have unremembered for a few minutes longer.
But it came tumbling in on me. That night. I shook my head to keep those memories away. That bastard. I let myself remember making my decision, though. Taking the pills, then realizing that it was not going to be enough. If two are prescribed for sleep, four weren't going to, like, kill ... So I'd thought of the bridge. The hurried walk, standing there, getting ready to jump, and then...
And then what?
Was I even still alive? Unfortunately, I felt alive. In fact, I felt alive enough that I realized I needed to pee. I lay there a minute longer, putting off the inevitable. And then I remembered more: someone grabbing me and holding me, a car, crying and pain, and ... nothing else.
Maybe I was, like, at a psych ward or something. Maybe Harborview? But it didn't look like hospital. Nor a jail, not like I'd ever actually been in one. Motel? Didn't seem right, with just one twin bed. There weren't any motel rooms with one twin bed, were there? And why did it rock?
I gave up thinking and pulled the covers back, swinging my legs over, and sitting up. My head ached – would I get a hangover from four little sleeping pills? My bladder urged me on, so I tried to stand.
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