Excuse Me Page 3

  Sasha smiled, “Maybe you should.” She raised herself up onto her hands and knees and kissed him softly on the mouth. His arms encircled her waist and he pulled her down against him, hugging her tightly. Then he rolled her over onto her back and they made love. This time it was soft and slow, and sensual, their silence bringing understanding between them.

  When it was over they lay in each others arms, spent and molded together like spoons.

  "I feel so tired now,” Sam murmured against her ear.

  "So sleep,” Sasha smiled, her eyes already closed against the early afternoon light.

  "Okay,” Sam yawned, “Will you remember me when you wake up?"

  Sasha thought it was a strange question, but sleep was already dragging her under into a blissful state.

  "Of course, silly.” She drifted off, the smells and sounds of Sam lying beside her a wondrous comfort.

  * * * *

  There was a loud buzzing, sounding like a large flying insect in the room, just annoying enough to pull her from her sleep. She lay for a few moments, wanting it to stop, willing it to go away so she could continue her afternoon slumber.

  "Sasha, you have to wake up."

  She smiled, but kept her eyes firmly shut.

  "Sasha, wake up,” Sam's voice, louder now, more urgent.

  She frowned, and opened her eyes to darkness. Confusion set in and she was awake instantly. She sat bolt upright in her bed. The loud buzzing was her alarm, signaling it was time to rise and get ready for work. How long had she slept? How did she get under the covers? She had no memory of climbing into bed, or of Sam leaving. But when she turned over she was indeed alone. The smell, and recollection of them together lingered around her though, her brain foggy and content at the thought of him.

  She flicked on the bedside light and looked at the clock. It was nearly seven, time she was up. She switched the alarm to radio and pushed back the covers, sliding her feet over the edge and onto the floor. Then she heard the news announcement and she froze:

  "Good morning, I'm Jane Howard with your seven o'clock news on this morning, Monday the third of March."

  How could it be Monday? Monday was yesterday, the day she had met Sam and spent a glorious day with him she would never forget. Sam, with those gentle green eyes and soft persistent hands. Could it really be he was just a dream? A dream so vivid that she could feel him against her body, smell his aroma lingering on her still? Would her mind play such a cruel trick to make her believe he was really here?

  She went to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. The black pants she had ironed on Sunday night for work hung neatly on their hanger, her blouse next to it in pristine form. She had never put them on, never had Sam undo her buttons one by one or rip her trousers from her body in the heat of passion. And yet, why was the memory so vivid? She shook her head, trying to free the memory from her mind, but it clung there like a mist on a winter morning, hanging over her head.

  She had no way of finding him, they hadn't even exchanged last names so there was no way of verifying whether he was real or not.

  And so Sasha tried to push him to the back of her mind, annoyed at herself for believing it had all been real. The more she thought about it she realized it was silly to have thought something like that could actually happen to her. Men don't go around picking up strange women like that. It was truly only something that could happen in a dream.

  Sasha walked into the coffee shop, smiling to herself at the déjà vu that enveloped her as she walked through the door. However this morning she was not running late. She was not stressed out because her boss would have something to say about her turning up late on a Monday. She was calm, and relaxed; extremely relaxed. Who wouldn't be after a night with a honey like Sam, even if he had been a figment of her imagination? She pondered briefly how it was such a shame he was all in her mind. The story he told was so vivid, giving a real edge to his personality that Sasha had warmed to instantly. He was the kind of man she would want to spend some more time with, even though their intentions had been purely physical to begin with. However this was just another reason to believe she had made him up, men like that didn't exist.

  She was getting close to the front of the queue so she pulled out her purse. The dome on her cheap Prada knock-off, caught on the side of her handbag, and three coins jangled onto the floor. She bent to scoop them up but could only find one of them. The other two rattled away behind her. She straightened up, not particularly worried about a couple of small coins. Good luck to whoever found them. A strange feeling of déjà vu crept over her again, as a familiar smell reached her nostrils, making her feel slightly lightheaded. Before she could place it she heard his deep sultry voice, vibrating through her back and sending shivers up her spine. There was no mistaking it.

  "Excuse me, did you drop this?"

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  About the Author

  Helen lives in Christchurch, New Zealand and is married with four children. For a large part of her childhood she lived in the beautiful Marlborough Sounds, a great place she says, for a writer to be born.

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