Baby-The Morning After
He awoke, dazed and confused as to where he was, trying to remember whether it was day or still night. A dull ache seeped from behind his eyes, like so many other recent times. His vision blurred, the dryness in his mouth a million coarse grains of desert sand.
How much had made its way into his glass last night? He thought he could begin to see traces of the sun filter against his window, when he felt something move in the bed beside him pulling the covers into a rumbled mass. Where the hell was he?
He looked at the body on the other side of the bed, certain he was trapped in a dream sequence, something not real. She was young, almost fragile but somehow vaguely familiar. Her mass of blonde hair cascaded on the pillow against the face of someone who didn’t seem to be afraid, or at least he hoped so, as she opened her eyes.
They were an endless ocean of deep crystal blue, vividly intense that looked right through him into an empty soul. He tried to get some words out but his tongue wouldn’t work, while every part of him seem to be shutting down. “God,” he silently prayed, “I promise not to have another drink if you can get me through the next five minutes” as he felt himself start to drown.
The bed covers slid to the floor as she got up to go to the bathroom. He wanted his dream to end or at least to wake up, alone. The sound of the toilet bowl flushing jarred him to move and pull on his pants, trying to at least remember her name. She came out of the bathroom, still naked and looked at him and said “you don’t remember anything about last night, do you baby?”
He shook his head afraid if he said anything he was doomed. “It’s okay, we’ll talk about it later.” He looked at her and nodded his head, thinking it might fall off if he did it too hard. “Good,” she said, “remember something, baby, the devil is always in the details. Let’s go out for lunch”
Suddenly, he desperately wanted it to be tonight already. She laughed out loud and turned around to get dressed when he noticed a strange crimson colored tattoo on her *** cheek with the face of a smiling devil. “Oh, hell,” he thought, “no one is perfect.”
Copyright © Steve Zak | Year Posted 2018