The Under Boss's Ballerina [18+]

43

When I wake, I find myself in a fluff of clouds. Fine Italian linen, white with yellow flower prints covered my naked body like peplos. I sighed.

"Well, good morning." I hear my best friend mutter from beside me. She was dressed elegantly.

Her voice undoubtedly had startled me, realising my naked skin under the sheets, I clutch the linens for life looking at the women sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, looking at me like a cartoon character, blinking rather forcefully.

"G-good morning." I replied, sitting up, the linens hiding my breasts as I sit up, assessing the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Is this how you look everyday when you get up?" Blaire asks, frowning.

Her frown makes me frown as well.

Like how?

A mess?

"What-" Frowning, I offer the well dressed woman a confused expression.

"No wonder why Devil-o wouldn't let go of you." She says standing up, I hear her heels against the floor as she stretches her arm above her head.

"What are you on about?" I ask, falling back on the bed, pulling the covers to my chest once again.

I don't recall falling asleep last night.

The last scene I remember from the night prior was pulling up to the house, ripping the car door open as i hurriedly got out of the vehicle, claustrophobic to the confinement as I watched the house burning. The roof to be exact.

Immobile, shocked and unable to gauge anything, I stood still like a stone statue watching the roof burn as if it were a movie staged right in front of my eyes.

The yellow red blue flames soaring up high into the night sky. Painting the dark canvas with horrible, horrible art work of lost memories and burnt smoke.

Standing on the front yard, I felt my world break and burn with the flames. Feeling every little memory turn into vapor.

I recalled all the laughter and smiles. I recalled Blaire's yelling that she was home. Angelo's constant barging in with his shoes on.

"Come on, tadpole." Angelo had said, his voice slightly cracked as I knelt on the freshly grown grass, screaming, yelling, crying for anybody- somebody to stop my home from burning to ashes, vaguely remembering Bertie and Blaire by my side, the dogs cowering, scared of my unkempt reaction.

I don't remember much after that other than I clung to Angelo, whispering things like, 'why? What did we ever do to anybody?'

"Where are we?" I ask, looking up at the high ceiling, painted.

"Oh, in a hotel." Blaire muses, examining her nails, laying down beside me, pulling the covers to her chest again, sharing it with me.

"In a hotel?" I ask turning to face her.