Agent Provocateur
The first thing Chloe smelt on that weird, weird morning was tequila.
More precisely, tequila, Jack Daniels and inexplicably, the tang of lemon air freshener.
Oh god.
She went though her usual wake-up check list.
'Where am I?'
That one was too easy. Even with the spinning walls she could identify her own living room. That fact that she was sitting on a dining room chair, and for some reason was unable to move were problems she'd sort out later.
'What am I wearing?'
Chloe looked down at herself. Then she tried it again. Nope, the provocatively cut pink and black bustier that she thought she was hallucinating was still stubbornly real, even after the third attempt. 'Still,' she thought, 'I must have had fun, and at least I'm not actually naked.'
'Is there anyone in the room with me?'
Oh god. There was. Lana appeared to be passed out on the sofa under the rug that usually graced their floor. 'Right,' said Chloe, her mouth thick and dry, 'This is starting to make the kind of sense that isn't.' Lana started stirring, and Chloe's immediate reaction was to try and get out of the room before Lana saw her in the ridiculous underwear. She stood up.
Or at least had a very good attempt. When Chloe had finished falling over, she put together a few more pieces of the puzzle. She was tied to the chair.
'This is not looking great,' she moaned as the marching band in her head struck up a loud rendition of The Rite Of Spring, with extra timpani. The noise of Chloe's impact on the floor had woken Lana, who, for once, began her day with less than her usual amount of grace and poise. She rolled out from under the rug, and there was a puzzled grunt as she too realised that her garment-status was firmly fixed at lacy lingerie. Lana crawled over to the heap of junk in which Chloe had fallen and began weakly to undo Chloe's bonds, which turned out to be silk stockings. Lana had recovered enough to use the gift of speech,
"What happened? Was there some kind of tornado that ripped through a Victoria's secrets catalogue and dumped all the stuff here?" She surveyed the wreckage. There were paper cups, pizza boxes, assorted bits of clothing, and a whole pile of underwear.
"There was a party. I don't remember much after the Lady turned up. People were making me drink red and pink cocktails" Lana picked up a riding crop.
"Who's the Lady?"
"The Racy Underwear Party Lady." Things were starting to fit together better now, although Chloe wasn't sure she was comfortable with the way things were headed.
"So that explains our sartorial choice then," Chloe snarked, rubbing her eyes and wrapping herself up in the rug. "But what happened? Or would I rather not know?"
Lana gave Chloe the oddest look she'd ever received. A jolt of realisation hit Chloe. She thought she couldn't remember, but oh, my god she could. She had absolutely no words. Lana continued to look at her funny.
"You mean, you don't remember what we did?" She said, toying with the riding crop, looking for all the world like the madam of some really sensational brothel.
"Oh yes I do."
Lana gave Chloe a playful flick on the nose with the riding crop.
"'Of course I do, Mistress', would have been the correct response."
Chloe grinned, and got out from under the rug. Hangover? What hangover?