I stood staring at the computer screen. I felt my heart pounding and I was short of breath. How could it be?
How had Devina got me dressed – so passable – and photographed me blowing a guy? Why was it I had no memory of it, and most of all, why did I look like I was enjoying it so thoroughly?
The ‘how’ of the situation was perplexing, but other questions flooded my mind. What else had I done? Why did I have no memory of the events?
I took my mind back to that thoroughly perplexing trip to San Francisco. When I thought about the way my body had ached as I flew home, things started to add up. My jaw, almost as though it had been forced open. My legs, not to mention the whole shaving thing.