When I woke up the following morning I was lying on my back with my arm wrapped around Samantha’s body. She was face down upon me, her head on my chest and her legs splayed either side of my left leg. I could feel her pubic hair tickling my thigh and her foot gently rubbing against mine. I slowly lifted my right arm and draped it around her, pulling her a little tighter against me, careful not to wake her up.
“Surreptitious cuddling rocks!” She mumbled.
“Hey,” I said. “How you feeling?”
“My bum is really sore,” She said down-heartedly.
“Maybe the endorphins have gone away?”
“Bye, bye endorphins. Thanks for nothing.”
“I’m…” She interrupted me with a violent thump on the chest. “What was that for?”
“Because you were gonna say I’m sorry and I don’t want you to. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.”
“I just thought that maybe I was too…”
“Unless the next words are fucking and awesome you should stop talking now if you enjoy breathing,”
I laughed. “So I wasn’t…”
“…you were fucking awesome,” She smiled. “So fucking awesome,”
We lay in that position for nearly thirty minutes, nattering away absent-mindedly, lost in the moment. Occasionally she would grumble about her bottom, other times ask me to report on what it looked like so she could salivate over her “marks of honor”. Eventually the realization that we both had trains to catch caught up with us and we roused ourselves from the comfort of the bed.
Remerging from the bathroom – during which she complained it was almost impossible to sit down and pee – she’d replaced her nudity with the green skirt she’d worn the day before. As I headed to the shower she stopped me with her hand, kissing my cheek. “Thank you,”
“You thanked me last night,”
“Not for that. For not making a play.” She said. “Most guys would have done in that position,”
“I’m not most guys,”
“Don’t I know it,” She smirked.