The Bachelor's Party

1.2 Still that morning when Fran can't keep her clothes on

The Bachelor’s Party

© iamDestinatas 2013

CHAPTER 1.2 Still that morning when Fran can’t keep her clothes on

Fran was looking at the guy with a miserable face. She couldn’t believe she became a hooker in just a blink of an eye. Her face had been epic and the guy started laughing. His voice was still husky yet Fran had found it sexy. It was comforting for her to know that she wasn’t in the streets last night selling her body, but he was seriously having the time of his life. Her killing headache, however, was now settling in and the throbbing pain from falling earlier was now radiating all over her body.

“Thank you for your generous hospitality,” Fran cut in from what she considered a rudely heaps of cackles. Her tone was filled of sarcasm and distaste for the guy who would joke about her being a prostitute. “I’ll just grab my things and head out.”

“Oh,” He looked at her, amazed. “That’s all the stuff you had.” He gestured at her clothing.

Her eyebrows burrowed on her face, then she laughed.

“Good one! But I’m not falling for that one again.” When he didn’t laugh with her, she felt the whole world crushing down on her.

How did I let this happen? How drunk am I to walk the streets wearing nothing but these tight shorts and a bra? I was no longer a teenager undergoing a rebellion phase. What the hell is wrong with me?

The guy sensed her dilemma as he scratched the back of his head and threw her his blanket. She immediately wrapped herself with it. She almost didn’t notice she was standing there, almost naked, in front of this hot guy for the last few minutes.

“You probably left your things at the bar. The bathroom is in there,” He pointed towards another door at the end of his room. “You can take a shower or whatever, but I only got my clothes here. So, yeah.”

She spun around as her embarrassment level for the day was already at its limit. When she entered his bathroom, she saw a mirror above his sink. It was the first time she had looked at herself in the mirror for today. She definitely looked like a common streetwalker. She was still wearing makeup with a fading black smoky eye shadow and smudged red lipstick. Above all, she’d got lighter, blush, blonde hair and extensions. Her hair never reached beyond her shoulders. It was much low maintenance than longer hair and she liked to keep it that way.

“Wow. I really do looked like my mother.” She tried smiling at her reflection but it only turned into a forced smile, then into a frown.

It was almost four years. Since then, she had always dyed her hair a shade darker because her natural hair colour always reminded her of her late mother. She tried to drown her thoughts to the hot water rushing from the shower.

When she went out, the guy was nowhere in sight.

“Thank, God.” She sighed. “Couldn’t humiliate myself anymore.”

She headed towards his closet. For a guy, his drawers were neatly organized.

She decided on wearing one of his regular plain white shirts. She also took one of his ripped jeans and folded it just about two inches above her ankle.

“Aw, my first ever boyfriend jeans… literally.” She beamed. “It doesn’t looked that bad. I could totally pull this off.”

She paused as she felt the words too oddly familiar. Déjà vu.

“You done?” His voice startled her.

She whirled around to face him, then his jeans fall off of her.