Day 74 - Caught Red-Handed

 CAUGHT RED-HANDED

Prompt - Caught Red-Handed : Write about being caught doing something embarrassing

Monday morning.  A glorious Monday morning of blue skies and cool breezes and the promise of being the perfect early summers day.  A Monday morning after the Sunday night before.  That sunny sky hurt my eyes, my head, my being, when I woke.  It was already eight thirty and I would have had to rush, rush, rush to get to work.  I groaned and turned over in bed.  And when I turned back again it was almost ten.

I phoned in sick.  Migraine was grudgingly accepted as a reason.  But I reeled off the symptoms flawlessly.  How did we skive off before there was Google?

"Have you had them before?"

"Yeah, but not for a few years, not since I got here.  Thought I'd got away from them, but this one's a beauty."  

And that bit was true.  As hangovers went, this one was a beauty.

"Sorry about all the rearranging you're having  to do."  I even tried to sound sorry.  

By one I felt a lot better, albeit full bladdered.  It had taken a lot of water to bring back my hydration levels.  So here I was, a free day, a beautiful day, nobody wanting anything from me, nobody expecting me to be anywhere but my sofa.  Opportunities aren't there to be wasted.  I jumped in the car and drove out to the beach.

Staked myself a nice quiet spot, lay reading for a bit, swam for a bit, lay dozing.  (It had been a very late one.)  

"Oh shit."  Her voice opened my eyes.  A few metres away, in my direct line of site, a bikini belle was trying to remove sand from her snack.  I watched appreciatively, savouring my unobserved status.  She was gorgeous, and my sluggish mind was starting to waken rapidly, constructing plots to approach and connect.  There was something about her that was wildly different and curiously familiar.  That made me want to get to know her and feel that I already did.

She seemed satisfied that she'd retrieved her lunch situation and began to make herself comfortable.  At the moment when I was observing her legs stretching out she looked up and across and straight into my eyes.  A mutual horror passed between us as recognition switched on.

"Mr Reynolds, I...."  She looked mortified, reddening rapidly.  But what could I say?  I was her tutor and we were both skipping the same class...