A cool breeze woke me up.
My head was laying on something warm. And soft. Impossibly soft. I turned on my side and reached up to grab the indescribably soft pillow I lay on, and blinked in surprise.
“Sharla, he is awake.”
I looked up at my pillow and saw instead the most stunning pair of thighs I’d ever laid eyes on. And my head, apparently. And my hand. I looked at my hand, and retracted it instinctively. “Sorry, I-”
“Nonsense,” a soft, incredibly feminine voice said, and she gently grabbed my hand and led it back to her thigh. “Sharla,” she said, directing her voice across the room. “Bring our guest some moon nectar.”
“And would you like something as well, my Queen?” The voice I figured belonged to Sharla was more high pitched and younger sounding than the other, which sounded smooth and… experienced. Wise, almost, like it had been around awhile.
“I will have some tea,” that wise voice said simply, and I could hear the gentle footsteps of Sharla start away. They were a pitter-patter, suggesting she was barefoot. I couldn’t care to turn my head and look, though, because my focus was stolen by the face of the lap I lay on.