Favors and Threats: Molly and Emily Short Story

Favors & Threats

A warm slightly rough tongue brushed over her cheek and moved toward her ear. There it was again, this time starting at the top of her neck and inching up her angular jawline. Molly sighed and a slow smile crept over her face. She was lying in the smooth white sand soaking up the rays with a muscular body draped over....

Molly bolted upright so fast she nearly face planted off the crisp black leather couch and onto the sticky beer soaked floor. Immediately she saw stars. Something that could only be described as a sledgehammer, slammed into her left temple and she went down like a sack of potatoes back to the smooth cushions. She ran the back of her hand over her cheek and felt a foreign sticky moisture. Her eyes sprang open and instantly bulged in disbelief. She was staring face to snout with a mini black pig delicately balancing on its hind legs on a shiny black ottoman. She closed her eyes and moaned. Clearly this must be some drug induced dream.

What the fuck happened last night? and Where was Emily? soared through her foggy mind at the same time. Molly reached out blindly for her cell phone hoping to get some hint of what was going on. No such luck. She peeked her eyes open again to survey the situation. The pig was gone but the surroundings were peculiar. She was in a vast room with cream colored walls, white molding and vaulted ceilings. Sun was pouring in from the skylights above giving everything a luminous appearance and heavily ornate frames hung in excess every few feet holding pictures of a large grimace smiling Indian family in the most clique American clothing possible; denim jeans and long sleeve button-up plaid shirts. The furniture seemed to be thrown about and there was a long tear in the side of a thick leather chair. Empty bottles and cans cluttered the floor and end tables and there was a faint stench of stale cigar smoke. Molly's eyes eventually came full circle and latched onto the teal zebra print mini dress that had hiked up to her navel and slid down to her lacy brick red hipster cut undies. Something shiny caught her attention and Molly reached down the front of her dress to retrieve her glittery pink cheetah print jeweled iPhone from her bra. It took three attempts to get the password correct before she could pull up the walkie talkie app. There were nine unread text messages and 12 missed calls. Obviously this signaled an apocalyptic disaster in any alert person's mind but Molly was running on half empty with her migraine and impending doom wasn't important right now.

"Em," Molly's voice sounded like sandpaper scratching against glass. "Emmmm... You alive?"

It took a second or two but the phone responded. "Molllllsssss. Bathroom. Help," Emily's voice came across as a low whisper. Where the bathroom was, Molly had no idea but she needed Emily and she needed answers now. The living room was desecrated and she was afraid to see what had happened to the rest of this perfect tastefully decorated house. Luckily she followed a path of Emilye-sque clothes (size 10 peep-toe wedges, a salmon chiffon blouse, a full-coverage nude bra and a black stretch mini skirt) around the corner from the colossal living room and found Emily in bathroom the size of half their flat. Even the new space held a picture of the Indian family, though this time they were all dressed in old Western period clothing and holding rifles.

There was that pig again (apparently it wasn't part of a psychedelic dream); licking the toes of some hulking man with a faux hawk, wrapped around the blue toilet (Do they even make blue toilets?) in the fetal position. This was funny because they didn't know anybody who could be described as "big" or "hulking" with hair like that nor did he really fit the bill visually for one-night-stand material. Emily was in the steam shower huddled into a ball against the inlaid tile bench with a glowing white towel hugging her body. Molly leaned against the doorjamb, covered her eyes with a sticky hand and groaned.

"Who the hell is that?"

"Don't know. I woke up, felt like someone beat the shit out of me and pissed in my mouth," Emily recounted in a monotone voice and closed eyes. Her long red hair hung in day old ringlets providing a stark contrast with the towel.