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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1845122-The-Morning-After
Rated: 18+ · Sample · Experience · #1845122
Have you ever woken up and realized you had a little too much fun the night before?
The rhythmic sounds of life woke me. A door slams, a car honks, children are laughing. A train passes by and I feel like it is passing right through my head as I squeeze the pillow over my face to block it out. Familiar questions begin dancing in the forefront of my consciousness. Where am I? What in the world did I do last night? And most importantly, who is the naked body sleeping next to me? I lay still for several moments as I attempt to piece together the blurry images that teased my memory like the result of an over exposed roll of film. My mouth is dry and I can taste the cigarettes I only smoke when I'm drinking. I feel nauseous at the smell of sex and alcohol my body is emitting.

I worked late last night and wasn't quite ready to head home to my empty apartment. I decided to get a drink at the bar around the corner from my office. I had a rough day. My new supervisor, Bradley, spent the afternoon riding my ass and hinting that he was going to be making changes in our department. Changes which might not include me and my mediocre work ethic. I remember nursing a vodka and cranberry while I chatted with a few girls I knew from around the office then heading to the bar for a change of scenery when they went home to their significant others. I remember drinking at least two more while wishing I had someone to go home to. I was well on my way to a full blown pity party when a devilishly cute guy about my age sat down next to me.

He was charming. He had a nice smile and stunningly blue eyes that seem to sparkle mischievously when he laughed. His name was David or Daniel. Maybe it was James. I don't know. It was some mundane middle class American name. I remember flirting shamelessly and was rewarded with several more drinks. That was about the time everything got fuzzy. We danced. I remember that much. He was a good dancer and I like the way it felt with my arms wrapped around his neck as our hips swayed in union. All I get after that is a few cryptic flashes of a heated cab ride, entangled bodies, sweat and euphoria. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize what happened. What the hell was his name?

I felt the body next to me start to wake as he stretched his limbs and rolled over to pull me close. I removed the pillow from my face and fought against the blinding sun to open my eyes and confront my latest regret as he nuzzled my neck and caressed my naked breast. When I finally managed to focus on the stranger next to me, my breath was caught in my chest and my stomach dropped in disgust. It wasn't the same charming nameless guy I met at the bar who was now exploring my body in a much too familiar way. I was faced with a man, a few years older than me. He had Black hair and the face of a Greek god. Though I was now convinced the devil's eyes were surely green and his name was Bradley.

'Well, that is one way to secure your position.' Came the voice of my biggest regret yet as he climbed between my legs to take advantage of his position. I swear I'm never drinking again.
© Copyright 2012 Rebecca Johnson (beca313 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1845122-The-Morning-After