Leftovers: Chapter One
Connie pried an eye open. It was too bright. She closed it again.
The damage was already done though, a spear of morning sunlight had galvanized her brain. She was awake. Dammit. She really wished she wasn't. Her mouth tasted like she'd just taken a big swig of a warm beer with cigarette butts floating in it. Her head started to pound. Her stomach grumbled, then flipped upside down.
"Urk," she said, and fortunately, that was all. Almost puked, she tasted it, felt the burn in her throat. She should sit up, she decided. Hard to do from her current position, which was very odd. Her ass was in the air, her chin on her forearm, a pillow stuffed between her tits and her face. Her knees were together and her ankles crossed. She had no idea how she'd gotten into this predicament, she usually slept on her side.
She pushed herself up to just hands and knees and blinked, trying to focus her eyes. Ow. Her back hurt. Her butt hurt. Her pussy was really sore. She felt air shift against it, and wondered how she'd managed to get out of her nightgown. She never slept nude. Except this time. Her eyes finally began to act like they should and images began to resolve.
This was her room, her bed. That much she recognized. The fitted sheet was half on, half off, a curious pattern of stains on the bare mattress. There were bottles and red plastic cups on her dresser. There was a scattering of debris on her bedroom floor, clothing, mostly. And, most importantly and urgently, there was someone else in bed with her.
Startled, she tried to hop away from the stranger, but her body protested and she kind of fell to one side instead. She stared in horror at the person next to her. She didn't know her. Sure was pretty, though, just as naked as Connie herself. The blonde's makeup was smeared and streaked, her tits pointing up in the air. White flaky bits on her chest and belly and matted into the honey dark pubic hair. Her legs were splayed, her arm across her eyes.
Connie looked around some more, spooked. No sign of a male, which would be required if the white stuff on the blonde's tummy was what she thought it was. She sat back up and noted with a fascinated dismay that her thighs were sticking together, and wondered what the glue was. She bet she knew. Something squirted out of her as she strained to sit, and she winced.
Well, that explained the soreness in her crotch. Unfortunately. She kinda wished she remembered what had happened. Seemed a shame to be in such a state and not remember any of the fun that got her here. She also was kinda glad she didn't remember. The girl next to her bore a striking resemblance to a used tissue, crumpled and discarded. She figured whatever had happened had been somewhat degrading.
Okay. So. The room smelled like weed, stale booze and used cooze. This had been a party of some magnitude... oh, shit. Connie remembered one thing, at least.
Yesterday was her birthday, number twenty one. She'd set up for a big blowout, inviting everyone she knew in person and practically sending up a flare on social media. Looked like it had been a success. Her bedroom was totally destroyed, but at least she'd gotten laid. Now it was a shame she couldn't remember... she concentrated. Nope. Last thing that was clear was her setting out bottles of liquor at her kitchen island, making sure disposable cups were neatly stacked, and hefting bags of ice into her freezer.
Gingerly, she put her feet on the carpet and tried to stand, backing out of the bed ass first. A little more of someone's leftovers rolled down her thigh when she straightened up. She briefly felt the urge to vomit again. She picked her way around the debris on her floor and made her way to her bathroom.
Somebody else was sleeping in her bathtub.
So much for a quick shower, unless she wanted to risk drowning the ebony skinned girl clutching a towel over her body.
This girl looked familiar, at least. Maybe they'd gone to high school together? Shanna? Connie wasn't sure, and couldn't focus very well, she'd have to ask her when she woke up. She sat on the toilet and felt her lips peel open, hairs getting pulled as they stuck to things they shouldn't. She peed, long and loud, and might have moaned in relief.
The girl in the tub stirred. She said something, a mumbled string of curse words. Then she abruptly bolted upright, staring at Connie. "The fuck. Who the. What in. Ow. I'm fucking sleeping on a DUCK!?" She fished under her, and a yellow duckling flew across the room and squeaked when it hit the mirror.
"That's Danny the Duck. Had him since I was five." Connie wiped, and winced. "Shit. Everything's sticky. Mind if I kick you out of your bed? I need a shower."
The girl nodded, tight curls bouncing. "Deal. Trade?"
Connie gestured to the toilet. "The throne awaits."
Shortly, Connie was hosing herself out and the other girl was trying to find her clothes. She'd been wearing one ankle length purple sock, not any single thing else.
"I'm Connie, by the way."
"Yeah? I'm Shawna. We had Mrs. Peterson for English, right?"
Connie nodded. "Thought you looked familiar."
Shawna found panties. "Fucking hope these are mine." She wiggled into them. "Yeah. They fit. What the hell happened here?"
"I hoped you'd be able to fill me in."
The black girl picked up a purple top, looked it over for a moment. "Fucked. Cum stains all over it. Oh well, it'll get me home." She looked back at Connie. "No offense, but I ain't remembering shit. I think I vaguely recall seeing your post on Facebook, something about a party."
