When she’s free of them, she continues walking to the couch. With her in front of me, I can’t help but sneak a peek. Her long shirt covers most of her backside, but I still get the basic idea. Her hips and ass have my cock swelling in my jeans.
But I quickly look away and try to think of something else.
She flops down on the couch, and while she gets comfortable, I go to grab her water and a trash can. She’s probably going to need it.
When I come back, I stop dead in my tracks when I see that now, she’s lost her top. And she’s undoingher bra. I quickly avert my eyes–even though I don’t want to.
“Can I get you anything else?” I ask.
All I get is a grunt in response followed by a soft snore. Still careful not to see anything I shouldn’t, I walk around the back of the couch and head for the door. While I’m a little bummed that our night was cut short, I know that this won’t be the last time I see Michelle.
Chapter eight
This is how I Die
Michelle
My eyes slowly open as I try to take in my surroundings. Everything takes forever to come into focus, and when I can see, I’m confused as to why I’m in the living room.
And as I look down, I’m confused as to why I’m naked.
Sitting up, I glance around, seeing the trash can and water bottle. Suddenly, it all comes screaming back to me.
The bar.
The booze.
Dane.
Oh, good lord! I cover my face in embarrassment just thinking about my actionslast night. I kissed him. And the kiss was…everything. But then, I took off my pants…and my shirt…and my bra. Oh my gosh, Dane saw my boobs.
I am never drinking again. I clearly can’t be trusted around alcohol.
Scooting to the edge of the couch, I feel my head starting to pound. It pounds so hard I get double vision.
This is it.
This is how I die.
I need to get up and go take a shower…or swallow about thirty aspirin. Something that will make me feel better.
I have no idea how long it takes, but I finally manage to drag myself off the couch and into the bathroom.
Maybe I’ll be back out. Maybe I won’t. Right now, the odds are about fifty-fifty.
***
After standing in the shower until all the hot water runs out, I get out, put on some sweats, and head into the kitchen for some coffee. My head still pounds, but hopefully, the coffee and meds I just took help.
As I walk through the living room, there’s another pounding. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s not just in my head. It’s someone at the door.
“Why?” I groan out loud. The pounding intensifies, so I yell, “I’m coming! Keep your pants on!”
I open the door to see Ronnie leaning against the doorframe, holding two large coffees. “What if I don’t want to keep my pants on?”
“Too bad,” I grumble as she hands me one of the Styrofoam cups.
“Oh, calm down, buttercup. I just came over to check on you.”