A Guest Who Went to Bed Early

Bernadette awoke with a gasp. She breathed heavily feeling her body on edge from what must have been the most vivid nightmare in as long as she could remember.

As the initial shock wore off she gazed around her lonely hotel room trying to recall the dream. Trying to recall the events that lead here.

She felt it was relevant some how, but recollection was evading her. Swinging her legs around to sit on the edge of the bed Bernadette stretched. She was feeling the best she had physically from a sleep in as long as she could recall.

Glancing at the clock she marvelled at how little time had passed since she laid down.

Hopping out of bed she practically skipped to the washroom for a drink with ease and energy she for some reason felt strange for having.

Running the faucette and filling her glass, Bernadette spit out her first sip as she looked in the mirror. Putting the glass down in shock she ran a hand down her silky smooth cheek, grabbed and held out her perfectly curled reddish brown hair, and realized what the bad dream must've been.

Exiting the bathroom she remembered why they were here. The wedding. The reception had been the most enjoyable in a long time, Bernadette even had four glasses of wine, where she otherwise would have only had one, maybe two.

Then she had retired early for the night, which wasn't unusual.

“What are you doing?” She asked her reflection. “You're young, beautiful. You need to live.” Bernadette then lectured shaking her head as she looked down at her well manicured hands, flexing her fingers before slowly stepping out into the room.

She didn't feel tired, if anything she felt anxious, stir crazy… Her mind seemed to be lost in an incoherent turmoil where she felt something was wrong, that she couldn't stay here. Turning on the room light she paused for a moment in slight disgust. What was she thinking with this night gown?

Looking at the closet she wondered about the dresses on the hangers. One felt familiar, but not right. Long sleeves, full coverage, it was drab and seemed like something an old lady would wear. The other one, it was like something out of the 60’s. Its matte colour, a bright pink, as she shimmied it on, it hugged the bare curves of her body.

She paused for a moment to admire how it clung to her figure, she swore she could almost feel an electric chill of pleasure rolling across her bare skin beneath the dress, as her hardened nipples produced peaks through the sheer feeling fabric, as Bernadette moaned in pleasure. She could swear she felt the fabric rolling her nipples.

As her head lolled back stray coherent thoughts grasped at her fragmented memory of the night, as if trying to arrange a document in proper order from shredded pieces to prove a seemingly elusive point.

She felt too good, too alive to give the thoughts heed. She wanted to dance. Why wasn't she already dancing? All those handsome men. Running her hands down her body she breathed deep.

Looking intently at herself in the mirror she felt some odd resistance to what she was doing… Something wasn't sitting right. Bernadette shook her head, “We don't want to be all show and no go.” She smiled to herself, she looked all show and no go. Now to avoid lacking such substance.

With a quick couple steps she parted with the mirror and ushered herself hastily to the door, her hand trembled as it rested on the knob, some strange last bit of resistance that scared Bernadette to her core. Pausing in thought she just couldn't make sense of the sinking feeling dragging down how good she felt. She couldn't let this ruin her night? Could she?