I’m still alive, despite having being either very hung-over, or very drunk the last couple of nights.
It’s a damn long story, but I’ll fill in the bits I liked the best.
I’d met two fantastically cool guys last night, and they got me completely drunk, as they did themselves, and after Élan left to meet his date, Ty and I went back to Élan’s place to get some stuff we’d left there earlier on before we’d gone out. After all, it really would not have done for him to pull his date home, and having her see another woman’s things lying about.
I had been really sick by then though, and crashed out on the couch, resting my head on Ty’s lap for a long time. He’d lovingly stroked my hair for a long while, and traced the contours in my ear until I fell asleep. After some time, he woke me up and asked me, very politely, if I’d lie down on his chest.
‘It’s been a long time since I done that..’ He said. And I believed every word of it. I really did, and I doubt I had been naive to believe so.
I’d opened my eyes and looked at him without budging. It wasn’t that I was reluctant, of course I wasn’t, it was just that I’d been too knocked up by the gallons of alcohol I’d drowned in.
‘I’m sorry for having woken you up…’ He started, noticing the pause.
‘Oh no, no..’ And then I got up and straddled him, placing my head down on his chest, and my arms around his side. He started stroking my hair once again, and I though how lovely it all felt, and how incredibly sweet it all was.
Then my back. He’d started to trace little patterns down my spine, and I though, ‘wouldn’t it be nice if I didn’t have my top on.’ And so I got it off. He looked at my tits for a little while, a teensy bit shocked, and I asked him to give me the look he’d have if he saw that they were pierced. It was a very satisfying look, and I think I shall get them pierced now, after payment on Monday’s modeling stint.
I found it hard to breathe in that position –been having difficulty breathing lately- and got up to lean back on the other arm rest. We faced each other upon the couch, with my feet propped up against his chest, and he started massaging them. I told him how I found it sad not enough attention was ever paid to my feet. He smiled at me and carried on for a little while, before starting to lick the tips of my toes, and placing them between his lips. And I felt myself thinking, soft, wet, and completely, completely sexy. I can honestly still bring out the sensation in my toes. (Mmm, Mmm, Mmm!)
He apologized for waking me up again, later in the night, and asked if I’d like to go back to his place. We couldn’t have stayed at Élan’s forever, and it was a couple of hours past . I asked him if he had sleeping pills, and he did, so it was a no-brainer. Besides, I really didn’t feel like going home. He was such a sweet boy.
I puked for a long while the moment I got back, and he asked me if I was allright. Of course I couldn’t answer.
He’d got a steaming spot of chamomile tea out ready for me when I was done, and a fantastic aspirin, along with some snooze in a pill. I popped it all in and snuggled into bed. I was having shitty breathing problems however, and couldn’t go to sleep right away. He’d noticed, and asked if I’d like some thing to help with it. Told him sure, and he rubbed my chest down with some spicy balm, which did help. And I knew it wasn’t done out of some odd perversity to touch my chest; you just know these things.
I felt like I had to apologize for being so much trouble.
‘I think you’re an amazing girl.’ He replied in return, and kissed me on the forehead. He’d kissed me on the forehead many times before, and I love it when I get that. Maybe it’s partially due to the paternal transference: that was kinda what my dad always did to me when I was much younger (and before I grew breasts).
I woke up early the next morning feeling fantastic, and looked at myself in the mirror and thought I looked really great without a single spot of make-up on. I was actually mildly surprised he’d told me I was a really attractive girl. I know I’m pretty, but have always thought I looked quite plain when my face was nude. Always the eye-liner, always the drawn and shaded brows. Blush, a teensy bit of lip colour.
“It’s a great morning, isn’t it.’ I said to him.
Who says you can’t have a fantastic time with people you barely know anyway.