A Red Love Bizarre or The Roswell Chest

Requiem for the awkward Morning After

4-21-99 {Micki}

Owwwww....

I am pulled into consciousness by the sun shining warmly on my face, although I can't open my eyes yet. I can already tell that I have a thumper headache, and my whole body feels *really* sore. What *happened* last night? I realize that my cheek feels like it's resting against bare flesh, and that I am naked under these sheets.

Oh. My. God.

Last night's events come barreling in an insane, pornographic montage through my brain. Wow, I did *that*? And THAT? I'm thinking to myself. My eyes cannot open just yet. I can't face my shame.

Ryan must think I am such a dirty slut.

Oh, he was willing, and certainly quite able, but I feel as though I've taken advantage of the situation. My lower half is still throbbing, and I can feel my ass burning from getting spanked. Oh yes, there was spanking. I actually couldn't believe that Ryan could be so forceful. It got me so hot. Needless to say, we pulled out all the stops last night. I guess I panicked, but can you blame me? Really? I might not exist at all in a few days, and neither will he. Now, however, the double-edged sword is that the last few days of our lives will be spent with Ryan thinking that I'm a slut-on-wheels and if we do get through this and make it out okay, we still have to resume our quest as usual, with Ryan continuing to have this new whorish perspective on who I am.

I go ahead and crack open one eye, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. My cheek is resting against his rather red naked ass cheek, as he lays snoozing on his stomach, smiling as he sleeps. How can he not feel like anything but hell? My head is pounding terribly.

I have to admit that he's pretty gorgeous naked. I raise my head a little to give his body a sober once over. Bad idea, I just got a sharp pain in my temple and I allow my cheek to fall back against his cheek, and let out a raspy groan. "Owwww." Ryan doesn't even budge in his peaceful slumber. I don't know why this irks me, but it does. I need ibuprofen, and lots of it. Oh, and a shower. I have to wash the slut off me. I manage to crawl off the bed and onto the floor; I don't care if I'm naked or not. I'm in extreme pain. I make my way to the bathroom on all fours and pray that there's a bottle of something in the medicine cabinet.

There's a small travel size bottle of Advil, and I am grateful. I wash down four pills down with a good amount of water and stare in the mirror. My skin has the tell-tell glow of great sex, but this does nothing to ease my guilt. Ryan doesn't even know that I'm not legally his cousin anymore. I don't know how I can face his reaction when he does wake up. I've ruined everything because I was stupid, selfish, and I panicked in the worst way.

I start running the water in the shower and hop in. Oh, this feels a million times better already. Is that a bite mark on my shoulder? Wow. It amazes me how crazy we got. I can't get it out of my head. The images of what transpired last night are fuzzy because I was quite a few sheets to the wind, but I keep getting flashes of our steamy, rough-sex filled night as I'm washing my hair.

If only I didn't truly care about what he thinks of me because I love him. Otherwise, when this hangover goes, this could be a decent morning.

"Micki?"

Oh shit. Ryan must have woken up, "Yeah?" I call from the shower.

"Are you okay?" he calls from the cracked bathroom door.

"Yeah." I say, quelling my apprehension.

I'm not really okay. I'm actually mortified, but I'm not going to tell him that. Ryan enters the bathroom and goes into the medicine cabinet for the Advil, "Ow, my fucking head." he groans.