This is gonna be one long night with very little sleep, filled with thoughts of what to do with the snorter in my bed.

Chapter Ten

There is a pounding sound around me. Why is someone knocking at my door? I don’t ever have visitors. I groan. Why won’t it stop? If I lie here quietly, they will go away. Besides, my eyelids are too heavy to open. I need to go back to sleep, and whoever is at my door can come back later.

Suddenly, this doesn’t feel right. I pat the bed around me and crack one eye open. The light from the window shines brightly, too brightly, and then mind slowly starts to catch up.

The pounding isn’t my door. No, everything around me is quiet, possibly too quiet. The pounding is the second hangover of my life barreling down on me.

I reach up and lay my arm over my eyes. What a mess.

I had sex in a closet with a stranger. I left him standing there with no intention of looking back. What I gained from it was empowerment. Now, I feel like I took it from the one guy who has truly ever been nice to me. He must think I am a slut. I wonder if he thinks I knew it was him. I wonder if he thinks I’m using him. He gave me a job that paid me just enough tips to keep my water turned on and then he fixed my car. What did I do? Nothing.

My car.

Oh my, he fixed my car. He made it better than it has ever been since I bought it from my mom when I was seventeen. Clean, the car was so clean … until I puked in it.

Embarrassment washes over me. I am a complete mess. My life is a complete mess. My car is a hot mess.

Before I can think about it further, the sound of padding paws grabs my attention. I look over the edge of the bed to find a Pit Bull looking at me.

Leaning over, I pet the dog as it sits beside me, resting its head on the bed with the little nub of its tail thumping against the floor as it soaks up my attention.

Could I hide in here all day with his dog? No. Eventually, I am going to have to face Hendrix. What am I going to say, though? What can I possibly say?

“Floyd, get down here, bitch,” Hendrix calls out, and the dog’s ears come up before it takes off to find its master.

So much for the hope I could sneak out while Hendrix still slept.

The throbbing in my head does not dissipate as I try to figure out what to do next. Why did I drink so much last night?

Mortification, that’s why.

The minute Jagger flung my panties onto the bar, I would have done anything to hide from reality.

Sitting up, I groan before glancing around me and finding the clock. Then, I proceed to freak out.

Ten a.m!

Ten in the morning.

Two hours past eight a.m. Two hours past my scheduled arrival at the hospital. Two hours late for my job. Two hours late for my career. No call, no show. I am thoroughly screwed. Not only will I possibly lose my regular job, but I am pretty sure, after knowing I am the girl from the closet, Hendrix will fire me, too.

Jobless means soon to be homeless.

My feet hit the cool, wood floor, and I immediately search for my phone, my clothes, my-brain, and they’re just not here. None of those things are here. My heart pounds, keeping nearly the same rhythm as my head. I am sick, literally sick, to my stomach.

I run to what I assume is the bathroom and make it just in the nick of time. I am instantly hunched over the toilet, throwing up again, though only once, thank God.

I decide to take a quick shower. I feel awful, and I’m already late for work and probably completely screwed. If there is any hope at all that I can keep my job at the hospital, I have to walk in without smelling like, like…

I throw up again, and with it, comes tears.

I flush the toilet and strip off my clothes. I am a wreck, a freaking wreck. I just need to get out of here, rewind the past twenty four hours, and move on.

Move on? Fat chance. I am literally trapped in a bathroom, physically and emotionally, by fear. This is crazy, and I can’t believe I allowed myself to put my guard down. I thought that night would make me a stronger person. I thought that night would help me move forward from the events of my past. Oh God, I can’t afford to put my guard down again.

After I shower, I brush my teeth with my finger, and then walk back into the bedroom where I grab a pair of sweat pants out of a clothes basket and a T-shirt, sniffing them to make sure they’re clean.

Tags: Chelsea Camaron Erotic
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