Claire popped an eye open when the alarm rang. She’d experienced a heavy, alcohol-induced slumber, the kind where you sleep like a log but awake absolutely knackered. Momentarily she wondered where the hell she was but then recognised enough of her possessions to realise she was in her flat. She racked her brain, but had absolutely no idea how she’d got home. The last thing she could remember was the dessert, but absolutely nothing afterwards.
She needed to figure some things out:
First — attire? She tentatively ran her hands over her body. She felt fabric. She was fully dressed.
Second — alone or with someone? She couldn’t detect any heavy breathing, but it was worth clarifying nevertheless. She raised her head slightly and looked around the bedroom. The light was dim but she could make out, with a surprising twinge of disappointment that she was, as she suspected, alone.
“Ah, shit.”
She was surprised not to feel guilty at the thought of sleeping with someone other than Josh; in fact she felt a little thrilled by the idea. It had been a long time since she’d last done something really wayward. In fact it had probably been when she’d seduced Josh and that was a long time ago.
She lay back for a minute; she had some slack before she needed to get in the shower. She didn’t have a hangover as such; she could drink quite heavily and not feel a thing in the morning, and today was no exception. She just felt tired and in need of rehydration and a shower, in that order.
As she lay there she thought about Josh and felt...nothing. Their relationship was like comfortable socks, warm and soothing but the trouble with socks was if you kept them on for too long they became smelly and threadbare. Which was definitely how Claire was beginning to feel. But worn out to the point of being thrown away? Maybe. She wasn’t sure.
Then she thought of Hershey and a little fizz rushed through her body. She looked at the clock — the five minutes leeway she always gave herself had been used up. However the residual tingle was still there and she thought she should capitalise on it, why let it go to waste? She had a waterproof vibrator in the bathroom cabinet with a brand new pair of batteries inside. That would prove a great start to the day.
At the same time as Claire was having her second orgasm Serena was sliding into bed unaccompanied. She was absolutely shattered. As predicted it had been one hell of a night. Bloody drunks everywhere, a couple of fights in a bar, loud music, people partying in the hot, still air — it seemed like no one wanted to sleep. She’s had to knee one guy in the balls when he’d tried to paw at her tits. He’d immediately forgotten her mammaries and instead cuddled his throbbing bollocks.
James was already long gone, his bed empty and cold. Not that it mattered because they slept in separate rooms, which, according to James, was how the wealthy used to do it right up until the Victorians. As Serena drifted into the edge of sleep she idly wondered who he was shagging. Then she shook her head. No, James was too loyal and far too busy, and besides, she shouldn’t judge everyone by her own pitifully low standards.