The Morning After

This story continues the story started in Night Out...

Sunlight flooded the room, bathing everything with the warmth of dawn. The early morning glow shook Tom awake, forcing his eyes to open and face the realities of a new day. His head, throbbing from one too many drinks, slowly peeled off of the leather couch that he spent the night on. Leather, he discovered, was an unfortunate fabric for sleeping in such a state of undress. His body was stuck to this unfamiliar furniture like the foul taste that lingered on his tongue, a remnant of what little he could remember from the night before. "Never again," he groaned, stretching his muscles and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Never again."

Once everything came into focus, Tom realized he had no idea where he was. The only familiar sight was the pile of clothes across the room. "Those are definitely mine...probably," he thought to himself. Suddenly he was startled by a cheerful, "Bonjour, Monsieur Entreprise!" Tom scrambled to cover himself, pulling a magazine from the coffee table nearby. In front of him was the beautiful young singer from the bar. The same singer who shone on stage in beads and sequins, attracting the eye of every man in sight. Here she was, wearing nothing but a smile. Tom couldn't help but stare as her hips swayed and breasts bounced with every step. Setting a plate of fruit on the coffee table, she looked down at Tom, perplexed. "You Americans, so afraid of nudity!" She giggled, noticing a slight rise from the issue of Girl Illustrated that he used to cover his manhood. "Interesting articles, yes? Seems to me you can't, ahem, put it down."