The Morning After

Rain softly tatters against the window, which eventually wakes me from my broken slumber. A slight pounding ebbs away at my temples as I roll onto my other side and lift myself onto my elbow. I wince and look down at my ribcage at the purpling bruise she’d left the night before. The weather colours the studio apartment a deep grey, almost as if it is foreshadowing the events that will almost certainly unfold.

Everything here is white. I have a feeling she likes cleanliness. The kitchenette that runs along the wall next to the front door is spotless; a candle sits on the edge of the sink, still burning from the night before. The light is on in the bathroom where I had taken a s**t only minutes after coming into the apartment last night.

She walks out from the bathroom, her legs the star attraction. The gorgeous smile that annoys me greatly splashes across her face.

“Unfortunately it’s raining. Coffee?” I nod, which induces another smile. I fall back into the pillows and bury my face in them. I forget her name.

I roll back onto my good side and watch her rummaging around the kitchenette, pulling out her electric kettle and a toaster, as well as a pan and a juicer. She then moves towards her half-sized fridge and grabs a carton of eggs, bacon, juice and cut up fruit in a container from it.

My stomach lurches at the sight of so much food. I distract myself by trying to remember her name while watching her prepare breakfast.

I have to admit, she is beautiful. Her thick bronze hair is hastily pulled together on top of her head. Strands of hair have escaped from all areas, brushing against her abnormally long neck. An oversized green jumper sits against her delicate hips, just high enough to reveal the perfection of her a*s. Pink polka dot knickers sit in a wonderful position. Oh, we had so much fun last night. Her legs go on for ages, right down to the cutest pair of feet I’ve ever laid my eyes on, her delicate little toenails painted black.

Succumbing to the urge to re-enact last night’s performance, I slide out of the sheets and open the see-through curtains. Standing at the window, I look down into the streets of the bustling city I’ve loved since I was seven.

“You know my room faces an office building, right?”

“If people are to be offended by my body Darling, then it’s their own fault. Why must our bodies be a source of offence?” I turn around, ready to go on another long spiel about the sexualisation of the human race. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

She laughs half-heartedly as she cracks two eggs simultaneously into a hot pan. I walk over to her, sliding my hands across her waist, resting on the front of her knickers. She slaps my hand away and, in a fit of giggles, turns around and presses her lips against mine. My hands slide themselves up underneath the jumper, searching for my favourite part of a woman’s body. Finding the sweet curve of her breasts, I ever so lightly pinch those exquisite pink n*****s, resulting in the smallest of moans against my mouth. I smile into the kiss, remembering that this was her favourite part, and slide my hand from her n*****s, down across her navel and into the pink knickers. Her body arches into mine as I wrap one arm across the small of her back and attempt to lift her onto the counter.

“No. Please… Stop.” I pull my lips away from her neck and stare into her pretty yellow eyes.

“I thought it would be fun?” I say, my ego sort of punctured from the rejection. I pull my hand out of her knickers.

“It will be. Just- Not while I’m cooking breakfast. I might burn something.” She grabs a tissue and wipes my fingers for me before she reaches up to kiss me.

“Can I smoke on your balcony?” I ask, pulling my packet of Winfield’s out of the back pocket of my jeans that are on the floor.

“Um, preferably not.”

“Thanks.” I pull on another oversized jumper that I find in her wardrobe and walk out into the drizzly morning. A wrought-iron table and two chairs with (surprise!) white cushions sit on the small balcony, accompanied by a hammock strung up from one corner of the upper floor to the other. I sit on the chair and watch the fog lift slowly from between the buildings. The rain is only a mist as I slide my first cigarette of the day out of its pack and in between my lips.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that,” she sighs. Joining me on her balcony with two cups of steaming hot tea, she sits on the other chair with her legs tucked underneath her. I bring the lighter up to the end of my cigarette and ignite the flame, cupping my hand around it so as to shield it from the dangers of the weather. After the delicate manoeuvre I suck the smoke deep into my lungs, savouring the sweetness of something that should be bitter.

“I really wish I could remember your name,” I reply. I look straight at her and watch her face fall. Smoke curls around her head as I blow it out in a stream. I’m sure I’m squinting, so I probably look like a dick.

“You can’t remember my name?” I shake me head and take a sip of the tea. Too much sugar.

“Unfortunately not I’m afraid. You see, I was a bit intoxicated when you approached me at the club last night. I’m sure you uttered it once or twice. Perhaps a third time, ‘cos I’m absolutely hopeless with names. We would have shared a few more drinks, you would have explained how you’re actually not that gay, but you would have told me that you’re up for anything. And of course I, being absolutely wasted by that point, would have been up for anything as well. So we would have come back to yours no doubt, undressed each other, you would have fallen on my side at some point,” I pull up the jumper and show her the bruise that is nicely blossoming under my breast, “And I’m sure we would have orgasmed. Well, you would have. Not many can make me. Plus, you’re not a real lesbian.” I sip the tea she has made me and shrug.

“You moaned.”

“Love, it’s called ‘faking’.” Her mouth forms a tiny circle shape as her eyes glaze over. I take another drag from my cigarette and watch the smoke blend into the mist that’s quickly disappearing.

“You seemed to enjoy it.”

“Who doesn’t enjoy sex? Of course I enjoyed it. Sex when your drunk is always more fun. And besides, girls do it way better than any man.”

I finish off my cigarette as we both sit in silence. Then, as if she only just remembers, the girl (whose name is now just on the tip of my tongue) runs inside to tend to breakfast.

“You coming?” she calls.

I wish, I think. I slip the lighter back into the packet of cigarettes and note that I only have four left. I’ll have to duck into a servo on the way home to buy more. I walk back into the apartment and slide the door shut behind me. It’s much warmer in here.

I sit on the double bed that sits arrogantly in the middle of the room. She slides eggs roughly onto my plate, adds two slices of bacon and a slice of toast, before shoving the plate into my lap.

“Thank you.” I eat the bland meal, grateful for food to appease my hangover.

Author's Note

Something that I wrote very quickly, to explore the state of someone that is completely opposite to me. Is it worth pursuing?

Reviews

[janeannerogers]

Interesting. I enjoyed the build up of tension early on . The descriptive stuff is really good. I definitely think you should keep on with it. The dialogue is sound but it isn't always clear who is talking.