"Where are my socks?" I mutter. "Where are my goddam socks?" This time a lot louder. No more muttering.I tug at the bedspread. Yank the covers. Huff. ...ull on my shirt without buttoning it. Snap my belt in place. Slide on my shoes without bothering to tie them."Where's this going?Sweat is dripping from my hair. It's burning my eyes. My voice is catching and I'm about to cry. I can hear myself breathing in short bursts."I don't know," she says. "You made choices. I made choices. In a way our. Could she have really planned a surprise for me? I suppose. I couldn't ask her so I left it up to her how far she'd let this go. He inched closer to the bed."This is perfect. I wanted to see her muscles relaxed, unposed, so sleeping is perfect. They say the sleeping mind is about as suggestible as the hypnotized one. Let's find out." Wearing nothing but tented short sports shorts and a Tee, he was unlikely to disturb her noisily or signal his closeness. He feathered her bare back, down her. More

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