Stranger In My Life

Fatima's POV

Waking up to the sound of rain gently falling, I felt an unusual pain in my side. I tried to open my eyes and I was welcomed by a very bad headache. I opened my eyes to a very unfamiliar room. Somewhere different from my home. Oh my God. I sat up frantically as I tried to recollect the previous night's activities. Seeing I am naked right now and the soreness between my thighs has given the answer to my questions.

Remembering the activities of the last light, I twirl a strand of my hair between my fingers with a smile on my face. I can not remember the last time I had so much fun. A little too much considering the headache I am having now. I had sex with a stranger.

Hearing his voice in my head right now is sending chills down my spine. A stranger who knows me so well.

"So fucking perfect."

"You need to open up to take all of this. All of me."

"So tight."

"Your taste is so addictive."

Did last night even happen, or was he some ghost figment of my imagination? But the lingering scent of him reminds me it was real.

All of it.

I looked to my side and noticed he was gone. Long gone before I woke up leaving me feeling disappointed and glad at the same time. I needed to know the man who gave me a million orgasms in a night.

I chew on my bottom lip.

Would I be able to look at him if I finally knew who it was?

Do I know how I feel?

Do I regret it? No.

But what if nothing will ever compare to that? Possible.

No no no. Don't think like that. You shouldn't even know him. At least you don't have to see someone you don't know. I'm better off this way. A clean cut. Never allowed to know each other.

As I continue to contemplate the consequences of the best one-night stand in my entire existence, the most terrifying, horrible thought blooms in my mind. Arriving late on the caboose of you are so fucked.

Wilson Sunday brunch.

I fly out of bed, standing naked and startled at the same time. Feeling like a fish in a glass bowl, I frantically look for my phone.

Kitchen counter? Nope. Bathroom? Nope. Racing around, I searched and picked up my littered clothes from the floor.

I am so fucked. So so fucked.

What was I thinking? Going to a business soiree and hooking up with a handsome masked stranger the night before family brunch. Stupid.

I thought the soiree was supposed to end by 10 pm which it did but Roxy had other plans. She was purring and meowing, I just couldn't deny her such a delicacy. Look where that got me.

Hanging out of my purse on the sofa, I find my phone.

I had so much time to remember something this important. How did I not? Instead, I was reminiscing over a dick that felt like a dream.

Okay. Stop spiraling. I probably have time.

I check the time on my phone. Twelve-thirty. Brunch started one hour and thirty minutes ago.

Oh my God. There is no way. I should just call Big Mama and cancel. I'm so fried right now. I can't even cancel. It is a once-in-two monthly gathering. Marilyn is going to kill me. I can't make it to Wilson Avenue. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Sweat pricked the back of my neck as I scrolled through a flood of messages, all from my family members.

Marilyn: Should I pick you up tomorrow for brunch? You know big Mama hates tardiness.

Marilyn: Bitch why ain't you picking up? You look cute though. Hope the soiree was fun. Just pick up the damn phone.

Marilyn: I have gone to Big Mamas. Alone. Since your dumb ass doesn't know how to pick up the damn phone. Bye.

Marilyn: It is giving kidnapped. Call me when you get this

Holy shit.

Mum: Hey sugar plum. We just landed in the Estate. Your father has talked my ear off of how proud he is. You are handling business well. Well see you tomorrow and don't be late. You know your grandma hates tardiness.

Mum: Where are you? Pick up your phone. We are getting worried. And tell me why your location is off.

Mum: Okay we have sent men out to look for you. You know what that means.

This is so bad.

Heat rushes through me.

I entered the bathroom to freshen up. As I rushed through it I heard the doorbell ring. I rush to the front door, peeking through the peephole. Standing on my tiptoes, I could barely make out a blur of blue and black on the ground.

Cracking the door open, I bent low and grabbed the package. It was a little heavy.

Once inside, I tossed it open and saw that it was a whole day's stuff. Hair spray, brush, perfume, free joggers, and a cropped hoodie with a pair of Nike sneakers. Dior shades and some other pieces of stuff I need to get ready and make it in time. Something that caught my eye was the handwritten card.

"You spoke my ear off about your family brunch. I hope this helps. Whenever you need to pretend again, I will be there. I'm always there, my angel."

Wow. As creepy as that sounded, I was grateful for the box.

I washed up in no time, shimmed into the clothes, and finished getting ready. The look is very calm and chic.

Damn. Might have snagged a stylist.

Inspecting the place one more time, I check if I have left anything important. Nothing I can't replace. But when I'm sure I didn't leave anything important, I sigh. It felt like I was leaving some dream behind, and I'm worried that the more time goes by, the less I'll remember how it felt.

As I rushed out of the room I called my driver, Steve.

After three rings he picks up.

" Good day, Miss Wilson. I am outside waiting for you," he said.

Hold up.

"Hey, Steve. Good afternoon. Thank you for that. I will be down in a minute." I replied and ended the call. How did he know where I was? Everything just seems crazy. I sent a message to Marilyn to let her know I was on my way and put in a good word for me.