When Marie woke, she found herself back on the chaise lounge, and she scrabbled against the feeling of fingers brushing over her. No light illuminated the room, which was a normal temperature again, and the groping feelings subsided as she anchored herself by pinching the fabric against her skin.
A knock at the door made her run to it, but she found it was again locked.
“Marie? Are you in there?”
“Iris? Is that you? I’m locked in!”
“Stand back,” a male voice said.
“Maestro?” Marie asked. Shame at being caught in that predicament warred with a strange relief he was there. “Whatever you do, don’t damage your hands.”
“Do you want me to get you out or not?”
Just hearing his voice calmed her and shredded the cobweb-like wisps of the dream that clung to her brain. “Of course, but let me t
