A Night Out Turns Messy

**Content note: this story contains graphic descriptions of vomiting**

One night I went out drinking with some coworkers at a bar to celebrate the end of year sales figures. The company had done incredibly well and as a result the alcohol was flowing fast and free. The mood was merry and I soon lost count of how many drinks I'd had.

Among my coworkers was Matt, who I'd had a crush on since the moment we met. And things were going pretty well between us that night. He was flirting with me pretty hard and I was loving every second of it. Someone decided it was time for shots, and I was enjoying myself so much that I forgot shots don't always end well for me.

I clinked my glass of tequila against Matt's, licked the salt off my hand, and sent it down. As it burned its way down my throat I bit into the slice of lemon, screwing up my face. Almost instantly my stomach started protesting but I ignored it, eager to show off my drinking prowess. However, a couple of shots later my body was threatening to revolt. I hadn't had much for dinner; a basic mistake.

My stomach flipped and I excused myself to hurry to the bathroom. I headed for the relative privacy of the accessible bathroom rather than the cubicled ladies' room. Once there, I stood in front of the sink and splashed some cold water on my wrists, a method that had worked for me to get rid of nausea before. But this time it didn't seem to be working.

I cursed myself. Why had I got this drunk? I was going to look a fool in front of my coworkers and I might as well forget about impressing Matt.

There was a knock at the door. "Are you okay in there, Ellie?"

Shit, it was Matt!

"Yeah, um, I'll be out in a minute," I said shakily. But my voice must have betrayed my sickness because he didn't go away.

"Open the door," he said, "I just wanna make sure you're okay."

Hesitantly I opened the door and he came in and locked it behind him. Ordinarily I'd love to be locked in a room with Matt, had been fantasizing about it for months, but this was embarrassing.

"I saw you weren't looking so well. Are you gonna spew?"

I shook my head frantically. "No, no, I never throw up. Honestly, I just need a few minutes. I'm gonna be okay."

"Look, Ellie, it's no big deal. You can hold it in and feel sick for hours and be really hungover tomorrow, or you can throw up now, and go back out there and keep having fun. Or I could take you home, but I don't want you to puke in the Uber."

The more he talked about throwing up, the more my stomach churned. Salty saliva was gathering in my mouth and I swallowed it down, but it made me feel all the more sick.

"I can keep it down, really," I said, but I was losing conviction. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"I really don't mind at all. I just want you to feel better. And I won't tell anyone. No one else has to know about this."

I pressed my hand against my mouth, suppressing a heave.

Matt sighed in exasperation. "Come on, just get it over with. You're past the point of no return. Get over the toilet."

Reluctantly I positioned myself over the toilet.

"Now open your mouth. Stop holding it in. Think how much better you're gonna feel after puking your guts up."

I did as he said and my face contorted as I let out a loud, vile retch. Strings of saliva started to hang down from my lips, dripping into the toilet.

"That's it. You're nearly there. Just let it all up." Matt's tone had softened. He put an arm around me to hold me steady and brushed my hair back from my face. Finally I felt like I could let go.

I retched again, harder this time. I could feel the contents of my stomach rising up inside me and slamming against the back of my throat. One, two, three retches and finally I started bringing up everything I'd drunk. Gushes of sour vomit erupted out of my throat and splashed into the toilet. Since I hadn't eaten for hours, it was mostly liquid. I noticed with disgust that it tasted like tequila.

As I continued voiding my stomach, Matt rubbed my back and said comforting words. Despite the fact that I was violently throwing up, I felt a thrill to be in his arms.

The vomiting finally subsided and I spat out the last few dregs of saliva and stomach acid. I felt a sudden rush of relief as the nausea left my body.

To my surprise, as I was catching my breath, Matt leaned over and started retching. He heaved forcefully and unleashed a torrent of his own puke on top of mine. Splatters of vomit sprayed up around the toilet bowl. And his was chunky; he'd obviously eaten more than I had. He coughed to get up the last few chunks and spat them out onto the rest of the mess.

The toilet was now filled with our combined secretions and was emitting a hideous stench. And for some strange reason, I was turned on beyond measure.

"Matt, I... are you okay?" I said in bewilderment.

"Yeah, better now. And now I've embarrassed myself as much as you have, so we're even," he said, and he was grinning broadly, obviously feeling the same relief that I was. "I drank too much too, and watching you puke turned my stomach. But honestly, it was also kind of hot."

"I'm so horny right now," I admitted with a gasp. "What did you say about taking me home?"

"Let's go," he said with a grin, and we sneaked out of the defiled bathroom. As we stepped out of the bar into the fresh night air I was buzzing with excitement for what the rest of the night had in store.