A Stranger in My Bed

By Rachel Cray

Warning: Contains some scenes with explicit sex.
A situation that some women dream about: Alex wakes up in her bed one morning with a stranger... but he isn't a stranger. He's her first love from thirty years ago. How did he get into her bed? And why is he there? Has he come back into her life forever? Can she keep him? (And does she want to?) What is the secret he seems to be keeping from her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel Cray
• Release date: Jun 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458180407

Rachel Cray

Rachel writes erotic romances to two sub-genres: the first she calls "law firm erotic", where her characters are the horny partners and employees of a U.S. law firm, and whose spare-time activities may best be described simply as sex-related. The second sub-genre she calls "village erotic", where the cast are the horny inhabitants of Maybourne, a fictional old market town in the heart of England with a number of olde worlde villages, Tudor buildings, a ruined abbey and other picturesque features in both rural and urban settings.She has worked in several European countries, first as a secretary and then as an executive assistant, before returning to her roots in Surrey, England, and close to London; for many years she was the director of administration at the London office of a large U.S. law firm before leaving to run her own recruitment company. Now in semi-retirement, she devotes most of her spare time to writing erotic romance novellas, drawing on her life's experiences in a variety of fields. She is married with children and grandchildren.

Book preview

A STRANGER IN MY BED

Rachel Cray

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Rachel Cray

Rachel Cray’s home page

Discover other titles by Rachel Cray at Smashwords.com:

Interview for Love

Jack and Me... and his Lodger

Banana Twist

Lift Stop

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission by the author, except for brief quotations for review purposes.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

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CHAPTER ONE

I awoke with a sore head. I had been out at a reunion party with several old friends the previous evening, but my memory was empty now. I cursed myself for having forgotten most of what should have been a very memorable occasion. My brain was thumping in my forehead, and my mouth was bone dry. At least I was in my own bed. I was still wearing my bra; this was odd, as I never slept in my bra, no matter what condition I was in when I retired to bed. Then I realised the bra was all I had on.

I felt something brush lightly against my thigh. I turned and saw the top of a head on a pillow next to me. It was a man’s head, slightly balding, and his hair was as grey as my own.

I shuddered. Instinctively, my hand rushed to my crotch to determine whether I’d had sex... and my fingers returned to my nose before I could think why I had done it. Then I relaxed. No, I couldn’t smell anything strange that might resemble semen. So I probably hadn’t been raped. But if I had been so drunk last night, I might have had consensual sex with this man, and he might have used a condom. Who was he? Should I wake him now?

A hundred questions flooded my mind. I’m naked; should I get dressed while he’s asleep? Did he see me naked last night? And did I see him naked, too? But more than anything else, I pondered, I needed to know what the hell he was doing in my bed.

I carefully lifted the quilt and looked across at his body. He still wore his shirt and his trunks.

My skirt and blouse were on the carpet beside my bed. I quickly sat round on the edge and put them back on, trying not to disturb my unknown sleeping partner. Then I rose and walked round to his side of the bed.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly pulled back the cover to reveal his sleeping face.

He was aged around 50, was clean shaven with a tanned skin. I could even describe him as handsome. But I didn’t recognise him.

I had to wake him up. There was nothing else I could do. I reached out and shook his shoulder gently. I had to shake him five or six times before his eyes opened.

He grunted. Then he greeted me with a pained growl. Hi, Alex!

Who are you, and how do you know my name? I asked.

Don’t you remember? Last night? His voice came a little more alive now.

No. I don’t know you.

Alan Foot, he said. We were at school together. And I was at the reunion last night. It’s been a very long time.

Alan Foot. Yes, we had been in the same class. We had fallen in love, in a juvenile fashion, a third of a century ago; he was easily the best-looking guy around, and I was considered so lucky to have him. I couldn’t remember having seen him since then. We had been separated on our separate ways to university: he to York, and I to Exeter. But hardly a week passed by since then that I hadn’t had a fanciful thought about him.

Shall I give you a clue...?

I don’t need any clues now. I remember you. Alan Foot. Well, after all these years....

We didn’t have much of a chance to talk last night. I arrived later than planned, and by that time you’d already had quite a lot to drink.

How come you finished up in my bed?

If I told you, you might not believe me. I think you should ring Jane Gold. She’ll tell you everything. She invited me to the party, and she made some arrangements for a bed for me... because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Jane Gold was an old, trusted friend. She was with me at school, too, with Alan. I left him in the bedroom while I telephoned her.

I thought it would be a lovely surprise for you, she explained, as soon as I told her he was in my bed. I got back in touch with him a couple of weeks ago, as soon as I heard he had returned to England. In view of all that you’ve been through lately, we kept it a big secret. But you’d had a skinful of drinks by the time he got to the party last night. He hadn’t had time to find anywhere to sleep and we got him quite drunk. Remembering how close you used to be, we had this brainwave to put the two of you to bed together. Sounds like you didn’t like the bombshell we planned?

I don’t like surprises, Jane. You should know that by now. We’re mature people, and I’m a respectable widow.

Oh, come on. Aren’t you pleased to see him? Just a little?

I paused. I just don’t know, Jane. I need to think.

Take it easy, Alex. Enjoy yourself. It’s Saturday, and you’ve got the whole weekend to unwind.

I hung up and returned to the bedroom. Alan was sitting up in bed. I looked at him carefully now; although he had aged and his greying hair was dishevelled, I could see some resemblance with the young man I had known nearly half a lifetime ago.

Right, I began. Before anything else, I need to know what happened in here last night – did we have sex?

He smiled. No. I’d never take advantage of a lady after a few drinks.

"What did happen, then?"

We were both intoxicated. I think someone might have slipped a few extras in my drink. Yours too, maybe. I didn’t have anywhere to stay, and Jane and the other guys decided you could put me up; she said you had a spare bedroom, and the guys were surprised to find you hadn’t when they carried me in here. I had no idea they were going to put us in bed together like this.

I sat down on the stool by my dressing table, relieved that his story matched Jane’s to some extent. OK, I said. I’d better fix us some breakfast."

And we’ve got some catching up to do. Can I get a shower first?

I directed him to the bathroom, where he escaped clutching an airline bag he had brought with him, and I laid two places at table for breakfast. Realising he appeared to have nowhere to go, I wondered how long it would have to take before I could throw him out of my house without appearing ungracious. I am a very private person, and do not welcome strangers to my home; as a middle-aged widow, I felt vulnerable.

Thanks for that, Alex. I feel so much better now.

I turned round. I had forgotten how tall he was. He had dressed and appeared well groomed, carrying an airline travel bag which he must have placed under the bed. In a new white T-shirt and dark trousers, he stood as a mature Greek god before me; his worn face gave him a distinguished air, suggesting that he had seen so much of the world and had absorbed all its wisdom. Now this gorgeous man was a guest in my home. I pulled a chair back for him to sit.

You have a hangover? I asked. You want anything for it?

No, I’m O.K., thanks. But I don’t want to outstay my welcome. Just let me know when you want to be rid of me.

As you said, we have some talking to do. I dropped a couple of Alka-Seltzer in a glass and started drinking.

He helped himself to a slice of toast. You never wrote.

We were young. There were new experiences every day. Time was very tight. I expect it was the same for you, too.

So what happened after Exeter?

I went into teaching. Got married at 25, and we had three children. Husband died a couple of years ago. I haven’t worked for a while. Still grieving, I suppose.

I really am so sorry to hear that, Alex. I stayed in the world of academia, and worked my way up. I didn’t stay in one place too long. I got a chair in philosophy at Melbourne some time ago, and took early retirement last year. I thought it was time to come back to my roots in England and see what’s left.

I’m pleased to meet you, Professor Foot, I smiled. You have a family?

A son and daughter somewhere. I haven’t seen them in years. I divorced my wife ten years ago. She’s still kicking around with her second husband in Australia somewhere. They’re doing very well for themselves, apparently.

Anyone else in your life?

I wish I could say Yes, but there’s nobody. How about you?

No. I can’t imagine life with anyone else now.

Alex, you must not cut yourself off. Don’t finish your life like a hermit. There’s a huge world out there.

So you’re lecturing me in philosophy now?

Funny how things turn out. I’m surprised you became a teacher. I didn’t think you liked school very much, and couldn’t wait to leave. Now it sounds like you couldn’t wait to get back.

I smiled. "Do you