Amy woke slowly, her head pounding. She could feel the nausea rising as she tried to open her swollen eyes. Pressing her hands against her skull to try and stop the pounding, she squinted into the natural light of the room as she tried to work out where she was. Her heart was racing and her mouth was dry. She closed her eyes again, it was too bright. It was never this light at her place in the mornings; she lived in a basement flat. Even in the middle of summer it was always pretty dim and cool. Where on earth was she?
Feeling d isoriented, Amy sat up carefully and remained still for a few minutes as she tried to get her bearings. She could hear the muffled sound of a shower running through the walls. Whose place was she at? Somebody had opened the curtains already, allowing the bright morning rays to stream in. She looked over to her left and saw a small bedside table with a couple of silk black scarves draped over it. They weren’t hers. She felt a new wave of nausea rising and closed her eyes. Concentrating on deep breaths, she tried to overcome it. What had happened last night? She couldn’t remember a thing.
There was nothing here familiar to her at all, nothing. Amy was sure she’d never been in this room before in her life. As she tried to get up, she realised her whole body was aching. Every inch of her was sore. She turned and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet pressing into the cushy carpet below. As the duvet fell off her, she realised she was completely naked. She looked around the room again nervously, checking it was really empty. Oh god, what had she gotten herself into?
She stood up unst eadily, still feeling nauseous, and began making her way over to the door on the other side of the room. It was cracked open slightly, and she could see the welcoming sight of the white tiles of a bathroom. She peeked through and to her relief saw no-one else was there.
Opposite the toilet there was a small wash basin. She turned on the tap and ran her hands under the stream. The cool water felt good on her skin. She cupped her hands and lowered her head down to take several refreshing gulps. It helped get rid of the gross, dry taste in her mouth. Then she splashed water over her face and let it run down her neck. It was getting her long, blonde hair wet, but Amy didn’t care. It felt good against her bare back. She was starting to feel a bit better, the pounding in her head had definitely lessened. She stood upright again and wrung out her hair. She didn’t want to think about why she was naked in a stranger’s house. She stared back at her pale face in the mirror. She looked different, somehow, and not because she was hungover.
Her face was entirely free of makeup and her green eyes had a bright gleam to them she wasn’t used to seeing. She stared at herself for a few minutes trying to remember the previous night, before suddenly realising the sound of the shower running had stopped some time ago. She carefully walked back to the door and peeped into the bedroom. No, there was still no-one else there. Trying to walk as softly as she could, she went back into the bedroom to look for her clothes. There was a pair of men’s jeans strewn on the floor. A lone sock. She kept looking. Her bra was hanging on a bed post. Amy grabbed it and quickly put it on. Her shirt was caught up in amongst the crumpled bed sheets, and finally she found her skirt halfway under the bed. She spent a scrambled minute looking for her knickers, but they were nowhere to be found. It didn’t matter, she decided, she just wanted to get out of there quickly before anyone saw her. She pulled on her black knee-length skirt and sat back down on the bed to put on the heels she’d worn last night when she saw the ropes tied around the bedposts. She stared at them, frozen with her shoe in her hand, before turning back to look at the scarves on the bedside table. Shit. She didn’t want to think about the implications of
Feeling d isoriented, Amy sat up carefully and remained still for a few minutes as she tried to get her bearings. She could hear the muffled sound of a shower running through the walls. Whose place was she at? Somebody had opened the curtains already, allowing the bright morning rays to stream in. She looked over to her left and saw a small bedside table with a couple of silk black scarves draped over it. They weren’t hers. She felt a new wave of nausea rising and closed her eyes. Concentrating on deep breaths, she tried to overcome it. What had happened last night? She couldn’t remember a thing.
There was nothing here familiar to her at all, nothing. Amy was sure she’d never been in this room before in her life. As she tried to get up, she realised her whole body was aching. Every inch of her was sore. She turned and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet pressing into the cushy carpet below. As the duvet fell off her, she realised she was completely naked. She looked around the room again nervously, checking it was really empty. Oh god, what had she gotten herself into?
She stood up unst eadily, still feeling nauseous, and began making her way over to the door on the other side of the room. It was cracked open slightly, and she could see the welcoming sight of the white tiles of a bathroom. She peeked through and to her relief saw no-one else was there.
Opposite the toilet there was a small wash basin. She turned on the tap and ran her hands under the stream. The cool water felt good on her skin. She cupped her hands and lowered her head down to take several refreshing gulps. It helped get rid of the gross, dry taste in her mouth. Then she splashed water over her face and let it run down her neck. It was getting her long, blonde hair wet, but Amy didn’t care. It felt good against her bare back. She was starting to feel a bit better, the pounding in her head had definitely lessened. She stood upright again and wrung out her hair. She didn’t want to think about why she was naked in a stranger’s house. She stared back at her pale face in the mirror. She looked different, somehow, and not because she was hungover.
Her face was entirely free of makeup and her green eyes had a bright gleam to them she wasn’t used to seeing. She stared at herself for a few minutes trying to remember the previous night, before suddenly realising the sound of the shower running had stopped some time ago. She carefully walked back to the door and peeped into the bedroom. No, there was still no-one else there. Trying to walk as softly as she could, she went back into the bedroom to look for her clothes. There was a pair of men’s jeans strewn on the floor. A lone sock. She kept looking. Her bra was hanging on a bed post. Amy grabbed it and quickly put it on. Her shirt was caught up in amongst the crumpled bed sheets, and finally she found her skirt halfway under the bed. She spent a scrambled minute looking for her knickers, but they were nowhere to be found. It didn’t matter, she decided, she just wanted to get out of there quickly before anyone saw her. She pulled on her black knee-length skirt and sat back down on the bed to put on the heels she’d worn last night when she saw the ropes tied around the bedposts. She stared at them, frozen with her shoe in her hand, before turning back to look at the scarves on the bedside table. Shit. She didn’t want to think about the implications of
Similar Books
