El Viejo Guardia

I woke up in softness, what I should probably say is that I woke up in a soft bed, but that just doesn't cover how soft this bed was. Of course, considering that I spent the last night recovering from being **** **** while lying on the floor of some basement and, prior to this “vacation”, a couple months intermittently crashing on a friend's couch or sleeping in the office during the disaster that was my {if husband == true}divorce from{else}breakup with{endif} The Asshole, maybe my point of reference wasn't the greatest.

Anyway, the feeling was still nice that I tossed and turned under the covers and not wanting to open my eyes and let the real world intrude on this moment of bliss. But, like all good things, it had to come to an end.

Adjusting my grip on the pillow I was clutching, I reluctantly opened my eyes. I didn't really know what to expect, maybe another basement, maybe some **** lord’s villa, but I didn't expect to wake up within the cold stone walls of a castle.

The sight was so incongruous, that I just lay there, propping myself up on my elbows, looking about. And, sure enough, I was in a room with the stone walls of a castle, along with wooden floors and thick curtains hanging from the wall.

Taking a deep breath, I folded back the covers and swung my legs out of bed. Sitting up, I noticed that I had been changed into a pair of satiny-smooth pajamas of deep red, which felt so soft I wondered if they were made of silk.

Standing up, I looked around and noticed an oddly furnished room, with a wardrobe and table in the same scarlet red and accented with a truly unnecessary amount of gold. The mirror hanging upon the wall made the room feel cavernous and was also set in a gilded frame.

Before I could investigate my surroundings any further, there came the sharp raps on the door and, without a pause, the door swung open and a gray-haired woman in stereotypical monochrome maid’s attire entered.

“Miss Douglas. It is good you have risen. Your fitting will begin in forty minutes and you must first bathe and breakfast.

“Carlos, being the lady's meal to the abattoir,” she called to someone presumably outside the room.

“Uh, hi,” I said wittily. “You know my name, but I don't know…”

“Gracious, my name is Luisa. Pardon, my lady, for not making proper introductions. I will be your maid servant, whilst Carlos will be your man servant. Now, if you'll follow me.”

Though I was tempted to argue, I decided that the best course of action would be to follow and gather information.