When in Rome, do as the Romans do.
When at Sushi Den, drink hot sake.
I was on my belly, left leg crooked, right one straight, left arm bent with my hand resting on the pillow, right arm crushed between me and what I knew had to be the weight of Lee’s warm, hard body.
In one night, Lee had perfected a strategy of keeping me in one place while I was sleeping. He was pressed against my back, a good deal of his body resting on mine, his arm around me, his left leg bent into the crook of mine and his thigh pressed against my nether regions. This was surprisingly not uncomfortable, it was cozy and warm and made me feel, somehow, safe.
Fucking hell, how did I get myself into these situations?
I thought back to our sake-soaked, family “celebration” dinner and was thankful to discover that I remembered everything.
Eat, drink sake, eat more, drink more sake, get drunk.
Let Lee put me in his Crossfire while I blew kisses to Ally, Hank, Dad, Kitty Sue, Malcolm and the parking valet
Come back to Lee’s condo, stagger into his bedroom, take off clothes, confiscate another wife beater, fall face first in Lee’s big bed because of drunkenness and lack of Disco Nap, and fall asleep.
With my left hand, I checked the status of my clothing.
Panties, check.
Wife beater t-shirt, check.
Either Lee didn’t ravish my drunken self or he dressed me when he was done. I figured it was the former.
My left cheekbone felt tight and there was a dull ache that, without sake working its way through my system, I could now actually feel.
I quickly strategized my next twenty minutes as best as I could without the aid of caffeine.
I needed to get away from Lee without waking him, call a taxi and go home.
Fine, good, sounded like a plan.
I inched forward, trying to be sneaky.
And failing.
“Un-unh,” Lee mumbled behind me, his arm tightening.
Foiled at the first hurdle.
I tried again using yesterday’s successful excuse for escape.
“I need to make coffee.”
Lee’s arm went away, but the weight of his body was enough to keep me where I was. He slid further onto me, bent and I felt his lips touch my shoulder at the same time I felt his hand travel up the side of the thigh of my crooked leg, stopping at my hip.
“You can have coffee after,” he said in my ear.
Every muscle in my body tensed even as my stomach melted.
“After what?”
His hand moved forward from my hip and his fingers traced the waistband of my underwear just below my navel.
“This is gonna happen,” he said and I didn’t need him to explain what “this” meant. Then he said, “Now.”
Holy shit.