He had felt the pain even before he had the chance to open his eyes. Mornings like this should be banned from happening. The sun got thru the windows and kept worsening his headache. He knew he should be probably getting up quickly, because his everyday schedule is over packed and it won't take long before his clock will make a noise. He stirred in his bedding and felt that something was not quite right. The facture was different from the usual one he had in his bed. That snapped his eyes open instantly.
He found himself wrapped in the silky bedding, being completely naked. This itself was disturbing, however with every next square centimetre he looked at, his situation seemed getting worse. He was in a place he couldn't remember going to, for first. Second, it seemed to be an expensive looking hotel. Regretfully it was a love hotel, full of toys he even couldn't name. Why regretfully you may ask? Probably because of the lack in his memory, why did he get there? Probably. But thinking about it deeper, it could be because he didn't know if he came here by himself or with a companion.
As the situation started to get to him, he looked around closely one more time. He looked under the cover and found himself quite frightened seeing a stain of blood at the centre of the sheet. On the floor he found ripped stockings and what scared the hell out of him- man's underwear that didn't belong to him. What the heck happened here? Shit, shit, shit! There was also a bottle of champagne, pretty expensive one, laying on the carpet in the middle of room, at the footage of the bed. When he slowly got up, he took in all the mess, that was made at the place of his awakening.
As he stepped into the bathroom he noticed water and bubbles splashed all around the floor. Half or more of the bubbles probably had gone away, but it was obvious, there had been everywhere. There was also a chair inside the bathtub, which was surprisingly dry. It didn't shocked him even equally fine like the wig with the long, straight hair inside the sink. Please tell me it is some kind of joke. Let me wake up again to realize it was only a weird dream of mine. Those kind of thoughts crossed him mind just before he looked up and saw himself in the mirror.
At first he noticed how lifeless his eyes looked like, how ruffled his hair was. Then he saw kiss marks on his neck and… a tattoo. His mind screamed loud. In a second he sobered. It just couldn't happened to him. It must be a nightmare! Wake up! Taking closer look, one could see a name written carefully into his body. This is not a dream. In my dream I would make love with her, have a happily after, but not this! I love her, that's for sure… but… doing that? I'm sure it cannot make her fall in love with me! She would run away from me seeing it. It is not like I would change my feelings about her… Just… having a tattoo is too… His fingers ran over the heart, where the name of his love was stated. Well, I guess it is good that the name is written correctly. Now just about everybody will know how pitiful I am. He sighed. I'm never, ever going to drink alcohol again. Why did I even started it?
Suddenly he heard his phone ringing. It was the only thing that kept him sane, realizing that everything is not a dream.
It took him a while to find from where exactly the known melody was coming. Walking out of the room he entered small living room area. Or maybe it was another bed room? It was hard to decide, since everything here was kind of bizarre.
There was the sofa, huge and all in leather. On the celling and on one of the walls there was a mirror, which helped him see the state of his back. And butt. I hope, oh god, make my assumptions be right, this are woman's nails marks! He turned to see for more signs of the yesterday. To his surprise he found a hickey really low on his hip. He blushed at the idea that crossed his mind. He quickly came back to the bed he woke up in. This time he knew what was he looking for. He found it in the trash bin in the bathroom actually and only after that did he relax. He was a little scared however about the number of used condoms. If it is all mine… Then he saw something, that drained all the blood from his face. A necklace. Special one, at that. The one that was given to HER, that cannot be mistaken with any other. It was laying innocently on the floor. He was too absorbed in convincing himself he probably spent the night with a call-girl, or someone like that, to consider the other possibilities. It could have been even his past girlfriend, maybe a new met pretty face, but not HER! I couldn't have! THAT'S impossible! NOOOO!
His reasoning came rushing back, and he realized that he got the phone call to pick up, answer back. That was the whole point in going to living room, but quickly forgotten by the turn of the events. What was even more important, he got to call just anybody, who might know what happened the night before. He couldn't straight call her and ask her about yesterday. If she wasn't with him this morning (which seemed understandable) there was the possibility of her escaping this country right this moment. He had no clue how did it happened or (sadly) he couldn't remember a thing from it, but she certainly didn't deserve it. Did he even told her he loves her?
