Morning broke into Shawna's room and stabbed her in the eyes as she slept. She squinted against the assault as she gathered her senses.
She threw an arm over her eyes to block the sun, her shirt flashed white as the silk covered her face. The pulses and pressure behind her eyes clouded out anything close to rational thought for a few moments longer. Her mouth couldn't wet a q-tip and tasted like Chester missed his litter box.
She moved her forearm slowly off one eye and peered out at the empty wine bottle on her bedside table.
"No glass," she muttered. "Classy."
Chester mewed at her from the foot of her bed.
"That's enough out of you," she croaked. "Get me some water, Chester. Go on. Go get mommy some water."
Chester regarded her for a moment, then stood, had a good long stretch, turned his back to her, and laid back down.
"Asshole."
Shawna struggled up to her elbows. The pain in her head made the error of her ways quite evident and she fought a valiant battle to keep from falling right back on to her pillow. She won, but only because she was about 20 seconds away from peeing the bed.
The cold water felt amazing on her hands after her needs were attended to. She pooled water in her hands and splashed some onto her face. The shock of it cleared her head some, and the pain in her head became tolerable after a few splashes and some deep breathing.
The monster in the mirror must have had a tough night. Her make up was running off her face, her hair was everywhere at once, and she was still dressed. But not in what she remembered wearing the night before.
"What the hell?" Shawna looked down at a beautiful silky white shirt and that plunged down quite a bit, exposing her black, beat up old bra between her breasts. It bore some water marks and red wine.
What else did I do last night? She thought, dread welling up in her stomach.
That's not dread, Shawny. She spun around and yanked the toilet seat up, plunging her face to bowl level as fast as she could. She waited for the reversal, head pounding from the sudden change in elevation. Her mouth watered, but the feeling passed.
Close one, she thought. One bottle did this? She thought as she stumbled into the living room.
Her coffee table held up another empty wine bottle and a mostly empty mickey of vodka. A half finished pink drink sat beside a wad of wet pink paper towels.
Oh.
Her phone buzzed from somewhere under the wet mess on the coffee table. Shawna walked past it and into the kitchen for a glass of water.
It buzzed again.
And again.
Finally, she marched over to the table, moved the sticky, wet wad off the magazine that sat on top of her phone, and prepared to face the inevitable messages from Darren.
It was Tracey.
Oh my god! Are you serious? He's married? Whaaaaat the fuuuuuuck?
Shawna's panic alarm went off. What had she done? Dear lord, what had she done?
She fumbled through her password, ignored the red dot beside Darren's name, and clicked on Tracey's messages. The brightly lit reality of her situation was she had drunk texted Tracey about the email, about her grandmother, and about bouncing back at the club tonight.
Thankfully she had left out the juicier bits. She wondered if she hadn't passed out when she did if that would have all come out as well.
Shawna stared at the messages for a minute. They didn't ring a bell. The last thing she remembered was singing Wonderwall at the top of her lungs and wishing she could stop thinking about how badly she wanted Darren there to put her in her place.
She straightened her white silky shirt and typed back: let's keep that stuff to ourselves. I'm not super proud of that.
Shawna put her phone down and began cleaning up. A few moments later, her phone buzzed again.
Ummm...I can keep most of that quiet...
Really, Tracey?
Sorry. I didn't tell anyone about your gramma and I only told one person about that lying asshole.
Don't tell anyone else, please. Deny everything if anyone asks.
Are we still on for drinks tonight?
Shawna's stomach turned at the thought of a drink.
You bet.
It was late morning, but she'd be ready to go by the time they started their night.
She busied herself the rest of the day, and recovered from the night before by mid afternoon. She was embarrassed to have gotten blackout drunk and sending out texts to someone fifteen years younger than her, but there was nothing she could do about it now.
Darren sent her a message that evening while she was in the shower preparing for the night. She ignored it, and concentrated on looking her best.
Tonight, I'm coming home with man-drool all over me, she thought while doing her make up. They won't know what hit 'em.
Gross. No actual drool. Numbers, maybe. At least three or the night's a failure. I can get three guys interested in me, no problem.
Only one matters.
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
Shawna's door buzzer went off, startling her out of her head.
"Come on up," she said into the intercom, and pushed the door button.
A few moments later, Tracey stood in her living room, excited and ready to go.
She wore a tight pair of dark blue jeans, black slip ons, and a tight, low cut white tank top under a light black jacket. Shawna wished she was twenty something again.
"Are you ready to get your flirt on?" She asked. "You look hot! I love that top. Can you undo another button, maybe? Perfect! You better not buy a single drink tonight."
"Easy now," Shawna said. "We have to get something to eat first."
"Ok," Tracey said. "There's a little diner down the street from the club. We'll go there first. Are you almost ready?"
"Yes, child," Shawna laughed. "Let's go."
The diner sat about ten people, Shawna and Tracey took the last two seats at the counter. The atmosphere was upbeat, and food was excellent. Shawna made a note to come back here one day.
Night had fallen while they dined. Tracey looped her arm through Shawna's as they strolled down the brightly lit street towards the club.
"I'm so happy you invited me out," Tracey said. "This is going to be a great night."
"I'm happy, too," Shawna replied, and meant it. She felt better than she had in days.
They arrived at the club early enough to avoid a line up, but just barely. They weaved their way through the undulating crowd of dancers to the fluorescent lit bar at the far end of the expansive space. Shawna felt hot bodies press against her every step of the way. Some points along the way, Shawna couldn't see Tracey despite holding her hand as they made their way across the dance floor.
Tracey wasted no time. As soon as they arrived at the bar, she wedged herself between two guys about to order drinks from the well dressed bar tender.
"Hi boys," she said. "I love that shirt! It looks amazing on you."
Stupid boys, Shawna thought. They're so easy.
Two hours and countless flirt-borne drinks later, Shawna was lost on the dance floor, sweaty, and free. Hot bodies pressed against her, men and women, and she pressed back. She couldn't count how many hands had roamed over body, and she didn't care. She felt fantastic.
As the night progressed, any hope of counting the men she'd danced with long behind her, Shawna noticed one man's lingering attention. She had danced with him several times, maybe a little dirtier than usual for a few songs.
He was handsome in his own way, well dressed, and a good dancer. His fake tan and too white teeth mattered less and less as he brought more and more drinks out to her while she danced the night away.
He was a pretty good kisser, from what she could tell, with busy hands. His body felt good so close to hers, grinding as the songs stopped mattering and they found their own rhythm.
She pulled his head down to hers so she could be heard over the music. "I like it rough," she blurted.
He pulled back and looked at her, surprised for a moment, then excited by what she said.
"Rough?" He said. "I'll show you rough. You've never had rough like mine."
Shawna laughed at his obvious line, but her body wanted to know what he had to offer. She craved the sense of powerlessness, the pain, and DEAR GOD the submission. She needed to be owned again.
"Prove it," she yelled.
