A bloody shelly
The next morning, the warm tropical sun filtered through the gauzy curtains of Blake's bedroom, rousing him from a night of fitful slumber punctuated by hazy, disjointed dreams. He stretched lazily and ran a hand through his tousled hair, the remnants of those unsettling visions already dissipating like wisps of fog burned off by daybreak.
After splashing some cool water on his face, Blake felt reinvigorated and headed outside to find the mysterious lady awaiting him on the private beach, looking resplendent in a flowing white sundress that complemented her tanned skin to perfection. A wry smile played across her full lips as she caught sight of him emerging from the villa.
"Good morning, my dear Blake," she called in a lilting singsong. "I trust you're feeling rejuvenated and clearheaded on this glorious new day?" There was just the faintest hint of teasing challenge underlying her words.