Let the scene unfold

My head was still swimming and I heard another tap on the window. I looked down and my 1950's nighty changed from something that my mother would never be caught dead wearing to an old faded t-shirt that probably belonged to my father at one point. It was thin in all the right places and there were a few holes in it where the material just gave out. I could plainly see my pink nipples on my tits through the fabric and I somehow knew that my trim little bush would be showing too.

Another knock on the window, this one more urgent, snapped me back to my situation. The shag carpeting on the floor changed under my feet to rug-covered hardwood floors and I made it to the window, but I had to sit down; the headache was turning into a migraine and I could barely stand. The window turned quickly into a bay window, eliciting a startled yell from whoever was outside. The voice was deep, it's baritone timbre cutting through the glass and straight to my core sending electricity coursing through my body. I opened the window without thinking of anything other than getting my "boyfriend" inside, maybe he was a prisoner to this weirdness as well.

The window opened and there was a dark flash of black leather and the scent of cheap cologne and hair gel. I shut the window and turned around, not thinking of my state of dress.

"Who the..." he said quickly and then stopped. His eyes raked up my body like a lion eyeballing a steak. He licked his lips and **** his eyes off the junction of my thighs, only to have them stop at my tits, and then finally forcing them up to my eyes.

A gentleman, under the circumstances.

"Who are you?" I said after a short pause. "What the fuck is going on here?" I drank his body in as well; tight jeans, leather biker jacket, dark, greased back hair, deep green eyes that seemed to take in everything around him.

"My name is Jack Connors, and I have no idea what the fuck is going on," he said. "These aren't my clothes, hell I don't even know where I'm at. I don't know who you are, but..." he said pausing to course his eyes up and down my body, "...I'd sure like to."

"Where are you from, Jack? Where are WE?"

"I'm from a little town in Ohio south of Toledo. Where the fuck are we?" Jack asked, taking his jacket off. His chest and abs were a feast for the eyes and despite the situation, I felt my pussy soak immediately. His arms were solid; not just corded muscle, but thick, heavy, and very strong looking.

"Last I knew? Anaheim in Cali," I said as I realized I was licking my lips at this man. I still hadn't adjusted my position and I'm sure he could see my lips starting to glisten with juice. I didn't know who the hell Jack was, but I knew I wanted him. I wanted him here, in my bedroom, and as soon as the migraine started letting up, I intended to feel his cock sliding up inside me.

"Anaheim? Well fuck, while I'm here, I might as well catch a 'Ducks game," Jack said quietly. He stood up, his biker boots sounding heavily on the floor.

A light in the hallway flashed on and an angry female voice called out, "Rebecca Jean! It's past your bed time!" Angry steps came down the hallway and stopped at the door, casting a shadow through the sliver of light coming under it.

"Fuck! It's my mom! Hide, quick!" you say to Jack and throw his leather coat at him.