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Another Hit
She woke up with a start, her first observation being that she was in a familiar environment which was yet so strange to what she was accustomed to.
It took a whole minute for her brain to register the last place she had been awake, and another for her to realise that this was Leon Laurent's Queen's hotel suite. An artistic portrait of him on the wall gave it away.
How the fuck had she made it there? She had been with him on her way to work when he had started commending the buildings and roads and the landscapes. His voice had been a raspy melody, luring that exhaustion in her to the tempting banquet of sleep. And she had answered the call, imagining of course that she would only sleep for a while and wake up when he got to the company.
The scenario she hadn't conjured was where she had woken up in his bed, his duvet placed over her, her purse and jacket hanging by the wall.
She felt a little weak but well rested, and forced herself to
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