"<em>Mmn...</em>" Dizzy stirred slightly, her heels dragging against smooth, cool sheets as she luxuriated in the feeling of a lazy morning.  She was in no hurry to get up, she ached in that<em>good</em>way that told her she'd had a particularly vigorous night, and no slats of late morning sunlight slicing through the blinds was going to ruin that for her.  Behind her, she could feel warm,<em>firm</em>flesh, pressing up against the curve of her back ... decidedly male flesh judging by the warmth nestled up against the cleft of her round ass.  He was a broad one, his arm sweeping over her narrow shoulders easily, reaching beyond her to the warm body on her other side.  Legs tangled with Dizzy's own, soft breathing tickling at the skin of her neck from the other woman across from her, the hand of her man pulling her close and pressing their breasts up against one another.  She let it roll over her, the warmth, the softness, the<em>smell</em>of other people.<br/><br/>Dizzy openned her eyes reluctantly and found one covered, a length of black cloth left at a cocked angle where it had been knocked askew in the night.  She tried to reach to pull the blindfold away, and got little more than a tug back at her risk with a light rattle of chain.  It<em>had</em>been a good night, apparently.  Of course, she was<em>laying</em>on her other arm, and the fact that she hadn't realized it earlier meant that it was<em>definitely</em>asleep.  Wanting to put off the assault of pins and needles that would surely attack her when she shifted her weight, she watched the woman in front of her peacefully breath in and out, her eyes trying to pick out the lines of her face in the darkness.<br/><br/><em>Name...</em>, she mused to herself,<em>What was your name?</em><br/><br/>She was slow,<em>deliberate</em>when she moved.  She'd gotten to enjoy a lazy morning, and she wanted her hosts to enjoy the same.  She'd almost smirked when she saw the stainless steel handcuffs, still shiney and new with no fluffy protector for her wrists.  It was almost cute, the poor little single-lock design; she noticed that she must have reflexively turned her wrists when they'd locked her in.  Rather than fussing around with the lock itself, she tucked her thumb against her palm, squeezing her knuckles with the other hand and slipped it out through the loop leaving the cuff dangling from the bed post.<br/><br/>Slipping from the bed had been a bit trickier, a battle of inches fought out over roughly ten minutes that ultimately ended with her slipping over the foot of the bed and padding onto the luxurious carpet.  She glanced back over her shoulder at the two of them, running her fingers through her long hair to get it in order.  She paused slightly when she noticed the bands on their fingers, her eyes tracing to the nightstand where she looked at the photo of their wedding night.  Her smile faltered slightly, finger tips brushing over her heart.<br/><br/>She ached.  Not in the good way this time.<br/><br/>She stooped down, grabbing the dark button-up shirt pooled up on the floor, bringing it to her nose and taking a deep breath.  It smelled like the man ... well, him, and a generous dose of cologne that she remembered liking last night.  She tugged it on, leaving it unbottoned and hanging from her shoulders, the sleeves flopping around well passed the tips of her fingers.  She found her panties and stepped back into them, high cut briefs, pink with black elastic bands, well suited for dancing since a swish of her skirts could climb up to her hips without being<em>too</em>risque if she went too far.  The hem of the shirt fell low enough to cover her backside, but from the front a triangle of pink protected her modesty.<br/><br/>As Dizzy stepped into the larger house, she kept an attentive ear out.  She'd never been here before, it'd be a bad time to find out that her hosts had a dog on the premesis after all.  Still, being a stranger didn't lead to her having a timid step.  Dizzy prided herself on her adaptability after all, a little thing like a strange home wasn't going to throw her out of joint.  She could be confident of at least two things: there would be a kitchen, and it would be on the ground floor.<br/><br/>Her hosts were good house keepers, at least.  Stooping, she snatched the remote up off of the coffee table, and turned the television on, hitting mute and turning on the closed captioning as she went.  With a few button pushes, she switched it over to the local news station, tossing the remote over her shoulder and leaving it to bounce on the couch cushions rather than putting it back where she'd found it.<br/><br/>Rummaging through the cabinets, Dizzy's eyes went wide when she found a container full of flour next to a half-rolled sack of sugar<em>Oh-hoh!</em>she thought to herself, checking the cabinets with a bit more fervor.  A quick look into the refridgerator confirmed her suspicions.<br/><br/><em>Nobody hates waking up to pancakes!</em>she thought with a smirk.  Fortunately for Dizzy, she'd learned to make the griddle cakes from scratch a few months back.  Cooking had become something of a survival skill for her; it wasn't as though her mother ever had the time to do so, after all.  It was either start cooking, or doom herself to endless mornings of Fruity O's, and there was only so much repetition she could endure at the<em>best</em>of times.<em>Hopefully, if they're good enough, the whole 'I don't remember who you are' thing will go by unnoticed.</em>she chuckled to herself, already pouring things into a mixing bowl as she watched the morning news.