The Morning After

Random stretching, arching her back, she rolled over and sighed. Her hand fell daintily upon his chest. Limp at the wrist, she began tracing circles. Soft skin and thin hair lined his muscular chest, and it heaved; back and forth in his slumber. A finger glanced his left nipple and he stirred.

Mumbling something incoherent, he swatted her hand away and rolled onto his stomach. His face into a pillow.

Another sigh breathed through lip-stick smeared lips and she blinked. She sat up and threw her legs over the side of the grey-sheeted bed. Pushing off, she danced silently over the debris scattered across his floor.

Her shirt was on the lampshade, ripped at the collar, and leaning to the left. Her pants were not to be seen amongst the dirty shirts, jock straps, and random splay of beer bottles lining his floor. ‘Twas truly a frat boy’s room.

He grumbled as he rose, sitting up on his side of the bed. Why the fuck did she have to be so loud? He bent down and picked up a random pair of pants. He slipped them on over his boxers and searched the floor for---Aha! There it is. His stewie T-shirt.

According to male morning rituals, he clambered into the bathroom. Ignoring that she was still in viewing distance, he pulled out his phallus out and let ‘er rip. God it’s hard to piss with morning wood he thought to himself. Finishing he zipped up, flushed and wandered back into his room.

She was sitting on his bed when he stumbled, more than walked, back into the room. He must feel comfortable around me if he didn’t close the door. And if he’s comfortable around me, he might like me. I knew things were going my way, she thought. She smiled at him as he passed. Did he smile back? What was that?

His socks were In the top drawer of his dresser. The only organized part of his entire wardrobe. But he had to pass her to get to it. Can I avoid eye contact? He faked a yawn as he passed. Did she buy it? His sock drawer was still a mess. There were those spongebob socks that one girl bought him. When was that? Last week? Last month? Who knows, It’s not like I wear them.

He sat down beside her and put on his mismatching grey and white socks. It doesn’t matter. People don’t see your socks. His kswiss shoes were under the bed, right where he always put them. Is she scooting closer or is that my hangover? Damnit, what’d I do last night?

Did I startle him? Her lower lip quivered with desire to taste him again. The bed didn’t bounce that much. Hmm.. maybe he’ll appreciate this. She bent down to tie his shoes, making quick work of the first one.

Rising to his feet quickly, he shouted, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I was just trying to help,” She responded, too timid to look him in the eye.

“Oh, so you don’t think I can do it myself?”

“No, that’s not it at all. I just thought you could use a little help. You looked tired, that’s all.”

“Why are you here anyway?”

“Don’t you remember last night? All those sweet things you said. The party, the back seat of my civic at the cliff, coming back here and well.. you know.”

“No, I don’t know. What the hell happened?”

“Well, you were drinking pretty heavily and decided to invite me back here for the night. We made love for hours on end, til we passed out of exhaustion.”

He grinned, paced once, and burst out into laughter, “I fucked you?”

More exuberant laughter followed while he turned deep shades of blue and violet. He fell into his computer chair, elbows on knees, face in his hands, sobbing laughter like he couldn’t breathe.

Tears welled up in her eyes until nothing seemed to be real. A vision from Alice in Wonderland. A deformation of reality. Why is he like this? I thought he liked me. I thought this was real. I thought... I.. and she couldn’t hold it back any longer. The dam broke. Her tears flowed freely like blood streaming from a fresh scored wound. There was no bandage for this.

“you thought I liked you?” he asked, “Don’t you know what I am? I’m a stereotype.”

“And you thought I wasn’t?” she choked through slowing tears.

“I just wanted you for the moment.”

“I need you for a lifetime.”

“I just wanted a piece.”

“I’m the type of girl that only gives the whole thing and plays innocent when her heart gets broken. I knew what I was doing last night.”

“I figured you weren’t ignorant, besides three beers doesn’t get me drunk. I’m too good for you anyway.”

“You couldn’t love a girl like me. I’m too dedicated. I can’t run you over.”

“I need a girl that challenges my will. That drives me insane with her constant disobedience. We’ll have three fights a week and wonderful make-up sex.”

“You could dominate me mentally. I’d cook and clean and keep the house straight. The kids would mind. We’d live in suburbia and I’d cheat on you eventually. With your best friend.”

“You wouldn’t be able to help it.”

“I know. Jim’s five foot four frame with two hundred and thirty pounds. It just drives me wild thinking about it.”

“he is rather a good looker if you can get past the psoriasis and beer gut.”

“I’m glad you support me in my decision.”

“What decision?”

“The decision to go for your best friend.”

“But wait. I need you. I’m not ready for a mistress that’ll challenge me. I need to dominate someone.”

“I’m sorry I just don’t think you can do it anymore. You’re too attached.”

“Please, I love you.”

“What’s your name again?”