Midnight

Just as he’d predicted, Cassandra knocked softly on the door at the strike of twelve. 
    "Can I come in" she inquired softly.
    “Sure. Give me a second to put some clothes on," he murmured through the crack between the door and doorframe.  He backed up quickly, and, heedless of his command,  in marched Cassandra, head held high like royalty.  She was dressed in one of the red silk nightgowns that were supplied in the chest of drawers in her room.  Derekk only had his pants on, but she didn’t care.  She strode quickly over to the black and blue, silk and cashmere covered bed, and hopped in.  She settled down, patting the quilt around and making herself comfortable, as if she expected to stay there.  He was halfway stunned. And only halfway.  Then he grinned, his teeth bright in the dim room, and walked, much more slowly, mind you; over to the bed to stand next to her, with his hands on his hips, bare chest gleaming in the lamplight.  She looked up at him expectantly. 
    "Oh all right. You can stay in here."  He said, going to close the door she had left ajar.  That was the last Cassandra remembered before seemingly blacking out. The next morning when she woke up with Derekk’s arms around her, it all came back to her; everything, including her feelings and what had caused her to come here, to this room.

The End

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