When I woke the sun was streaming through the open curtains of my bedroom window and I knew it was much later than my usual wake-up time. I stretched luxuriously, feeling wonderfully rested and completely relaxed. Then suddenly, with increased wakefulness, adrenaline slammed into me and shocked me rudely into full awareness. I was naked. It was late. It was Saturday. I lunged for the clock on my bedside table. Half past ten. Half past ten! Oh no! I had so much to do! I paused and stared. On my bedside table was a note—a sheet of printer paper folded in half. On top of it, brazenly posing as a paperweight, stood the butt plug. I had to laugh, but I grabbed it and shoved it into the back of my bedside drawer. Sometimes my mother popped in to visit on Saturday afternoons, on the way home from her pottery class. We often ended up sitting on my bed, drinking coffee and chatting.
