So, I was at this Valentine’s party last night and there was this guy…. mmmm… He was cute, and funny and sexy and… HAWT! We talked, we drank, we flirted, we kissed, we groped, and we may have ended up in his bed… Ok, we did end up in his bed (shut up, don’t judge), and here I am the next morning, desperately trying to get dressed and sneak out of here before he wakes up.
Shit, shit, shit — where are my panties? I’m crawling around on the floor but they’re nowhere to be found — did he steal them? Fine, I’ll go commando then. I find my stay-up stockings in a shocking state; ripped to shreds! Never mind, they’ll do for now. My bra decorates the bedpost, and a crumpled-up piece of fabric on the floor turns out to be my little black dress, or what’s left of it. It’s ripped and mangled and I suddenly remember, with a heated blush, exactly how it got to be that way (and no, I’m not telling you, perv). All rigth, so far so good — or is it? I’ll get arrested or propositioned if I go out like this. Hmmm…. Oh I know, his white shirt should cover me up nicely; I’m so stealing it. Ok, just my boots now; where are they? WTF? Under his pillow? *extracts them ever so carefully*
I do a quick check in the mirror and flinch at the sight of my haystack hair and racoon eyes; lovely. No, please no! Tell me that is not a hickey?!?! I’m gonna kill him.
It’s time for my walk of shame. Before I go, I sneak a little look at lover boy, awwwww, he’s kinda cute when he sleeps.
*Credits after the jump.