I open my eyes and bolt upright in bed. It’s pitch dark, and when I look over to find the clock that is always present on my bedside table, it’s gone. I stand up and wince as I step on something sharp, which turns out to be my glasses. I grimace as I pick them up and realize that one of the lenses have cracked. I put them on and hop forward a couple of steps, swearing under my breath. It doesn’t smell like my room, which smells like laundry detergent. Instead it smells like booze and cigarettes, which is odd because I don’t smoke or drink. I stumble blindly through the room in a daze, feeling slightly out of sorts, as if I’m only half there. My mouth tastes disgusting. I feel around the walls until I find a door knob, which leads me to the bathroom. I shut the door and flick on the lights, I can see immediately that this is, in fact, not my apartment, but somebody else’s home. There is men’s deodorant and a razor on the counter, which is covered in soap scum and dust. A clearly over-used toothbrush sits behind the sink in a filthy cup. The sink has a brown ring around it, and a rusty faucet. I look at my self in the mirror, my reflection blurred from the water marks and dust. I don’t look like myself. My hair is sticking up, I have smeared lipstick on my chin, and rings of eye shadow, liner and mascara around my eyes, which are blood shot. I’m naked and very cold due to the draft in the bathroom. I softly open the bathroom door, letting the light illuminate the dark bedroom.
The room is, like the bathroom, absolutely disgusting. There are dirty clothes scattered around, as well as bowls and plates, some containing rotting food. The carpet is stained and there is a guitar shaped clock hanging over the bed. The time is 3:28 am. I look over at the bed and see the covers slowly rising and falling. A man is asleep in the bed. He rolls over and I can see his face. He has black, bushy hair and stubble. His eyelashes are long and his eyebrows are thick and unruly. He’s handsome, however. He has a chiseled jaw and thick lips. Still, he is absolutely not my type, and I hope to dear God that I haven’t slept with him, though it would be a logical conclusion given the circumstances. I see what is clearly my underwear, bra and dress on the floor beside him. I creep softly towards them, hoping to avoid waking him. As I gather my clothes off the ground, the back of my hand softly brushes his face. I flinch as he groans and rolls back over, knocking the blankets off of himself. He’s naked. I shudder and head towards the door after quickly pulling on my dress. As I pull the door open, a loud creak echoes throughout the room. I cringe and turn around. The man is sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It is then that I recognize him, and I gasp audibly as I do.
His name is Richard Steele, and he has been my boss for 15 years. I start to remember the office party last night. For a bunch of accountants and sales people, we sure can throw a party. The conference room had been covered in multicolored streamers and balloons, and loud party music had been blasting over the P.A system. I had been standing in the corner, sipping some wine, when Richard had approached me. He offered me a beer, and when I refused, he had started a riot. He yelled, his words slurred“Hey everybody! Tell Carla to lighten up! It’s a party for goddsake!” He smiled dumbly at me.
My co-workers chanted “Drink! Drink! Drink!”. All I wanted was for everyone to stop staring at me, so I chugged the damn beer.
“Happy now?” I demanded. Richard smiled.
“Sheesh Carla, relax a bit. You’re so uptight all the time! Let your hair down!” He put his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s get you another beer!” He smelled heavily of alcohol and sweat.
“Sir, I really don’t want another beer.”
He rolled his eyes. “Carla, you have another beer right now, or you’re fired!” I really didn’t think it was a good idea, but I wasn’t about to get fired over a couple of beers. By the end of the night, I was completely plastered, and I really don’t remember what happened after that, but I can guess. Now I’m standing in the middle of my boss’ bedroom, and he’s stark naked.
“Carla?” Richard furrows his brow. “Why are you in my house? And why the hell am I naked?” He pulls the covers around his body.
I sigh. “Try to figure it out.” I cross my arms over my torn gown.
“Oh God… did we…?” He moans and runs his hand through his hair.
“What do you think?” I snap. “This is just fucking fantastic, Rich. Not only are you my boss, but you have a freaking fiancee! Where the hell is she?”
“She’s away on business, thank God. Why the hell are you in my house? Why did you do this? For God’s sake, do you want a raise or something?”
I clench my fists. “No, I didn’t sleep with you for a goddamn raise!” I fume. “We were at the office party and youforced me to chug however many beers. Besides, you weren’t exactly sober yourself. I can’t believe you’re blaming me for all of this!”
He takes a sharp breath. “Well… go home, I guess, and I’ll see you on Monday.”
“What?!?”
“Go home. What else is there to do? What’s there to discuss? We screwed up, and it sucks. Now what?”
“Well… I guess I’ll see you Monday, then.” I turn on my heel. I’m about to leave the room when a loud roar of thunder shakes the house, followed by a bright flash of lightening. The sound of pouring rain hitting a window resonates through the room. Richard moans.
“Great” he mumbles. “Well, I can’t send you home in this weather. Come on, I’ll make up the couch.” He stands and wraps the sheets around his waist.
“I don’t want your charity.” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
He shakes his head adamantly. “No, no. Come on, you want the bed? I’ll take the couch, it’s cool. Here, we’ve got some spare blankets so you don’t have to use mine, and you can leave first thing tomorrow.”
I sigh. “It’s fine, I’ll take the couch.” I step out into the hallway with him close behind. He opens a small closet and pulls out a blanket and a pillow. He hands them to me and leads me down the creaky stairs. The rest of the house is surprisingly clean and it smells like vanilla candles. He shows me to a black leather couch and I drop the pillow down on one end and look at Rich. He stands to the side, awkwardly.
“Well… G’night” he says, his head bowed.
“G’night” I reply. “And Rich… thanks.”
He nods and walks back upstairs, shutting the door behind him. I hear a stifled scream and then there is nothing but my thoughts, unwelcome companions. I lie down on the couch, suddenly exhausted. I put my glasses on the floor, along with my bra and underwear. I pull on the blanket, and close my eyes. I quickly start to fall asleep, a million thoughts dissipating into deep, smothering black. As I drift off, I know that as soon as I wake, reality will be a cold slap to the face.
