She was still in the galley when she awoke. And still in the chair.
Her throat felt itchy. Parched.
Sliding her legs off the cushion, she got to her feet, and the first thing that struck her was that she no longer felt weak. On the contrary, she felt invigorated.
A slightly sweet residue sat on her tongue. That, and the echoes of the workout her nether region had been through, was testament to what had occurred. Proof she hadn’t dreamt it.
She padded barefoot over to the water dispenser and downed half a glass while standing there. Remembering the flow of bubble lights on the cushion, Sienna glanced over at the odd little seat—a f*****g chair, as she now thought of it—but the lights were gone. Probably because I’m not sitting on it.
a f*****g chair, Probably because I’m not sitting on
