Emily Millers Mysterious Women

This is part of @Emily Miller's "Mysterious Women" thing on X. She has posted a picture of pretty AI generated brunette women. These words are my interpretation of the story behind this mysterious lady. As such exactly 750 Words are below.

***

Groaning, I slowly wake up. I am feeling incredibly groggy. My eyes are still closed. I don't dare open them just yet. I have that feeling of dread that I know I am not in my bed.

I know I should not wake up and feel warmth on my face. I can also hear two distinct noises. Firstly birds squawking loudly above me. Plus a roar as the waves forcefully dig into the sand as they crash-land nearby.

I move my arms out like a snow angel. I feel the sun-baked sand on my bare arms. I'm clearly lying on a beach. I cough and splutter. I can also smell seaweed nearby. I stretch my fingers out and instantly recoil at the still wet slimy slug-like feeling.

Rubbing my lips together they are dry. I really need water. I can still taste the night before on my fury teeth. It must have been a good night. Oh for my bed, and for my toothbrush.

I slowly open my eyes, I have to blink. The sky is blue, the sun is shining brightly. Too bright. I have to bring my hands up to protect me. Throwing more sand over my face. Blinking, I look around me. I can finally see where I am. A deserted beach, the town is a little off to my right. I put my hand down and my fingers crawl through the sand beside me. Relief crosses me. My bag, they left that with me. My sunglasses must be in the bag.

As I stretch I realize my first problem. Looking down at my body, I'm just in my white negligee. It's practically translucent in this sunlight. Fuck. Where is my dress, oh and on that note where is my bra? Fuck it's not in the bag. Bitches. Nor are my sunglasses. Bitches. It was only meant to be a couple of celebratory drinks. At least I've still got my thong on. That's a relief. Nothing untoward happened there. Did it? I was not even the hen.

I pull the straps back up my shoulder, and in the process tuck my stray breasts back inside my top. Goodness knows how many dog walkers have laughed at me asleep on the beach lying there with my tits out. They are not even that big. Knowing my luck they are all over the internet. I will have to explain that to the family. As I move I realize that I do need to remove the sand from my butt crack.. It's clearly saltated up there in the breeze. Like I'm a beach dune. How long was I lying there?

At least my bottle of water is still in the bag. I gulp it down. Relief washes through me. I was parched. I am waiting for the giggles, the laughs as they pop out from behind the rocks. Shouting "surprise". Nothing is forthcoming. I'm alone. The birds circling overhead are louder than before. I need to get up and move.

I really need to get home. Grunting and groaning I sit up and hug my leather bag, at least I've got my purse and a hair brush. Hallelujah also my cell phone. But, the battery is flat. Someone could have pinched any of it. Thumbing through the purse, my cards and cash are still there. At least that is a result of sorts. I can pay to get home from wherever I am. If I can find a charger, I can call home.

Before I move anywhere I brush my hair. It's one thing on my body I am proud of, my just over shoulder length hair. I sit there crossed legged on the beach and brush it straight, knocking out a lot of the sand. It desperately needs a wash. I am not walking through town looking like a cross between Lady Godiva and a tramp.

I slowly get up and stagger across the beach. I am more tired than I thought. I finally get to the boardwalk. I brush more of the sand off from my negligee and body. I keep heading inland, dodging the old people walking their dogs. I can see the bus stop over the road. I am just going to have to style this out and walk over the road to get home.

It's then, I look up and over the road, I see all the girls sitting there drinking coffee. Bitches. I almost apologetically wave my arm. They have some explaining to do.