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I closed my eyes for a minute.
When I opened them it was a quarter to eleven, and the suite was dim, and someone had put a blanket over me.
Vivienne was sitting in the armchair opposite, shoes back on, reading the hotel magazine. She looked up and smiled.
“Morning,” she said, even though it wasn’t.
“Oh no. Oh God. How long was I out?”
“Nearly an hour and a half. You snore like a tractor, by the way. A small, polite tractor.”
“I’m so sorry. You should have woken me.”
“Why?” She closed the magazine. “You clearly needed it more than you needed me. Happens more than you’d think. Very successful men booking two hours of the most expensive sleep in Scotland.” She stood up and stretched. “I had a lovely time, honestly. I read about a whisky distillery. I ate your minibar Toblerone. I’m adding that to your bill.”
She came over, leaned down and kissed me, soft and warm, on the mouth.
“That’s the only kiss you get,” she said. “Since you slept through the rest.”
At the door she paused.
“Book me again when you’re not dead on your feet,” she said. “I’ll make you regret ever closing your eyes.”
I did. She did. But that’s a different story.
Ending 11 of 16: Paid to Sleep. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.