Gentlemen Only

Three's a Crowd

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The faint throbbing in Meredith’s temples grew as it slowly roused her from her slumber, becoming more prominent until it was thundering like a stampede around her head. She was vaguely aware of the stale taste in her mouth, as if she’d been gnawing on an athlete’s dirty laundry while she slept. The foul taste made her stomach roll.

No recollection of the previous night sparked in her memory at first, until faint clips of conversation and people flooded her thoughts. She remembered climbing the steps to Gentlemen Only, feeling like she could brawl with a world full of Jets; of cutting her skin before, trying to pull her pain out through her veins. The feeling of drinking lots of liquor lingered, and more than necessary, she assumed groggily, if her slight memory loss was any indication. Ryan had been there, she knew, recalling that he’d served her. Why, she couldn’t fathom: he knew she didn’t imbibe spirits often. Jet must have been present as well, as an angry discontent brewed in her chest that she only associated with him. Then there was a mysterious aura, one that surrounded a soft pair of unknown lips as they pressed against hers. She rather hoped that was a figment forged from the stupor of her drunkenness, and not her actual behavior.

Muted sunlight streamed through her curtains to tease at the junction of her closed eyelids, tempting them to open for the day, though they felt weighted. Meredith tested her sluggish limbs but immediately regretted it: everything hurt, even muscles she didn’t know existed. She groaned, burying her head into the pillows, noting with relief that the sheets smelled like hers. At least she was in her own home, not lying naked in a ditch somewhere or worse, in some stranger’s bed. The faint, lingering lavender of her Epsom salts was welcoming, though a spicy, woodsy scent tainted the smell as she breathed in deeply.

Immediately a burning passion recoiled in the back of her mind, a hot, feverish tickling that edged at the corners of her consciousness. Her fingers knew the sensation of soft, thick hair as she ran her hands through it; her body recognized the heat of another molded tightly to hers. Meredith felt a moan ease from her throat at the thought of it, imagining the sensations were real. She almost convinced herself it was just a dream when the distinct clearing of someone’s throat interrupted her reverie.

Meredith jumped, tangling in the coverlets as she flailed, hair askew as a bird’s nest and negligee hanging crookedly on her warm frame. Suddenly she could hear the loud honking of cars as it rolled in through her open window. The sunlight was incredibly blinding, the pounding of her headache increasing tenfold as it assaulted her.

“Do I need to leave you to yourself?” A churlish lilt came through her cottony ears and she tilted her head toward the source, scrambling madly to find her glasses on her nightstand.

Her body ran cold with recognition even before her trembling hand managed to properly center her spectacles on her nose.

“Corrigan!” She shouted in horror, gathering the blankets in front of her scantily clad figure. “W-what are you doing in my room?”

“Calm down, lass.” He eased; eyes shut. A bemused smile crept up the corners of his mouth. “Nothing you didn’t invite me to do.”

“Oh my God!” Meredith cried, eyes wide in shock. “You mean-”

“Take a breath, Mer.” Corrigan spoke calmly from where he lounged on her chaise beneath the window, his legs and arms haphazardly sprawled in relaxation. “We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.”