He had awoken with a sore head and a mysterious lady in his bed.
This was most irregular.
Lying as still as he could, he strained to look at her out of the corner of his eye.
She was lying on her side, her back towards him, a peroxide Venus At Her Mirror. Her dark roots were showing, which made his stomach leap with sudden excitement.
Her bare shoulder was showing just above the duvet, a five-pointed star tattooed there like the lingering shadow of a kiss.
He couldn't see her face; he couldn't remember her name.
So now what?