At ten to three

I needed a pee

Because I’d had one last cup of tea

Well you know me!

So I awoke, found the floor and, stepping lightly, cautiously, skirted the shirt, the sloughed off slippers and the cold, congealed, cocoa cups from the night before.

Wary of the edge of the door, which is always open and the bottle of spring water, standing open and ready for Snore Wife to gulp at noisily when she gets too hot, I found the landing astoundingly elongated and the stairs distorted, swooping to infinity down a torn tunnel with darkness murkily jagged, to vanishing point.

The bathroom door was closed but a light showed under it and the sounds of washing came from within.

Now who can that be I wondered, half asleep. Our friends went on Sunday. Late, its true, but not this late, its Wednesday now and there is only the two of us here.

But it is an old house, this one. Ours for now, for the moment passing. People have died here; others been born so perhaps one of them, some of them, have forgotten their soap, their toothbrush, their whatever, other things. Like the stuff we found in the cupboard under the bath when the builders were here.

Yes maybe they’ve come back for their things and decided to have a wash while they were here. For old time’s sake, clean their teeth and brush their hair. Yes its an old house. Mysterious……

I fidget, hand on the handle, needing a pee, wondering if I should go downstairs. But the stairwell looks strange. Furry. Blurry. A long rectangle of darkness just like a grave.

So I grab the handle and shove open the door and blink at the brightness

that burns my eyes.

I hear her move in the bedroom at the same time as I see no-one is there.

No-one and nothing except a trickling tap and a basin full of water up to the overflow, gurgling merrily.

“I must have left the light on!” she says, thumping heavily, reaching for the glass to gulp a drink of bottled water.

“You left the tap running too” I tell her, tugging the plug, turning tighter the trickling tap. “And as I’m awake now and its three o’clock, would you like a fuck or a nice cup of tea?

She sprawls footloose, Titloose, saggy, As receptive as a sponge and as wet, her minge still running with cum from four hours earlier.

“Tea’d be nice” she says “Now I’ve finished the water.

“And?”

“I’ve had enough cock for the time being I think”

My erection eases as I put the light on to dispel whatever those monsters were that lurked on the stairs.

The kettle boils double quick and I make two cups of tea. Double quick, but even so she is sound asleep by the time I take it upstairs.

© Aahlu.2011