A Night in Bed of the Wrong Man

Andrzej woke up feeling dry in his throat and splitting in his head. The symptoms clearly indicated that he had recently had some intense fun. Funny, he thought, because he couldn't remember any fun. He purred as he shifted position. Is it his imagination, or was the light shining on him from a different side? Was he partying for so long? He opened his eyes with displeasure.

He blinked confused.

He jumped up, sitting up and cursing his headache.

Where the hell is he?

He was lying in the king's bed, in light brown, soft sheets. To his right was a wide window with a patternless floor-length curtain, behind which he could see a balcony door and blue sky. The walls were the shade of the sand of a tropical beach and in front of the bed was a huge TV and a set of powerful speakers. The interior was simply but tastefully decorated and devoid of any features of a woman's hand. Could it be a hotel suite?