My headboard was literally banging against it as the ruckus continued next door.

Rubbing my head and cursing enough to make Clive blush-if cats could blush-I looked back at the wall behind me again.

That’ll teach me to live in San Francisco and not make sure everything is securely mounted. Then all hell broke loose.Ī painting I’d propped on the shelf above my bed fell off and rapped me soundly on the head. All seemed quiet now, and I began to drift back to sleep, Clive purring contentedly beside me. I pushed the thoughts of my missing O away and curled up on my side. The beginnings of carpal tunnel were threatening to set in as I tried desperately to get myself off. She’d been on vacation for six months now. Bad, rapid-fire sex and an ill-timed one-night stand had robbed me of my orgasm. I’d been in a bit of a dry spell for a while. I looked at Clive, he looked at me, and if I wasn’t so tired I’d have been pretty sure he winked. I found myself gazing stupidly at the ceiling, trying to return to a relaxed state, but I was startled again as my headboard moved-banged into the wall was more like it.Īre you kidding me? Then I heard, very distinctly:īlinking, I felt more awake now and a little fascinated by what was clearly going on next door. My new home, I’d thought contentedly as I slipped into an easy sleep, which is why I was so surprised to be woken at…let’s see…two thirty-seven a.m. The click-click came from his hangnail, you see… I’d spent the day moving in, and after soaking in the incredibly deep, claw-foot tub until well past prune, I settled myself into bed and enjoyed the creaks and squeaks of a new home: light traffic outside, some quiet music, and the comforting click-click of Clive exploring. It drove my friends a wee bit mad at times, as I was constantly restaging their knickknacks. As an interior designer, I had a habit of mentally placing things in almost every space, whether it belonged to me or not. I was aching to put things on the mantel. It was a gorgeous apartment: spacious rooms, wood floors, arched doorways-it even had a fireplace! I had no clue how to actually build a fire, but that was neither here nor there. I stroked him as I looked around and oriented myself in my new space. Butting his head under my hand, Clive demanded to be soothed. My hands still stroked the duvet absently, catching the attention of Clive, my wonder cat.

I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and turned to look at the wall behind me, beginning to understand what had woken me up. Even half asleep, I was aware of my thread count.

My new bedroom, in my new apartment, I reminded myself, placing both hands on the duvet, grounding myself with the luxurious thread count. I scrambled up out of sleep, confused as I looked around the strange room.

Wallbanger book