7 comments/ 24770 views/ 21 favorites Absolut Hell By: rachlou Please note, this story contains no sex, so if you're only after wank material, look elsewhere! * * * Lucy knew from the moment she opened her eyes that something was out of kilter. The splitting headache pounding inside her temples louder than a road drill was a bit of a giveaway; the light in the room was also different somehow: softer and less intrusive. She feebly attempted to move, but her head hurt too much, so she lay back down and tried to piece together the events of the previous evening. There was the party—she could remember that at least. Thereafter, it faded into an alcoholic blur of worrying proportions. It had been a mistake to venture out. She could see that now. She should have known better than to go to the damned party when it was bloody obvious Gary would be there, too. Gary who had led her merrily up the garden path for three bloody years before telling her, "It's not you, Babe, it's me—I can't commit right now, so I think it would be better if we had some time apart..." The fucker. The faint sound of a running shower intruded into her thoughts and she froze. Shit. She wasn't alone. Frantically she tried to recall talking to any strange men last night, but her mind was a total blank. Deciding that the pain of movement was a necessary evil, Lucy sat up and made a concerted effort to take in her surroundings. A first cursory glance told her she was most definitely not at Megan's house. The décor was too bland for one thing and the room was too large for another. It had to be a hotel. Where on earth that hotel might be located was another story, although this was somewhat overshadowed by the more pressing question of who her roommate was? Then she looked down and saw to her dismay she was naked. Double shit. Could it get any worse? Her clothes appeared to be strewn around the room like confetti. One lone stocking hung from a chair and her bra was draped across the television like a garish Christmas Garland. All the evidence strongly suggested she had done the one thing she tried not to do where at all possible—drink vodka. It was always the same. Wine, beer, or indeed any other drink—she could handle, but for some reason vodka was a one-way ticket to sin and suffering. The last time she'd overindulged on Absolut, she had met Gary. And look where that one ended. It was no good. The realisation Quasimodo's twin brother was almost certainly about to emerge from the bathroom like a bad smell catapulted Lucy up from amidst the ruins of the king-size bed. She grabbed her clothes, flung them on in no particular order, and legged it. * Megan fixed Lucy with an expression of unbridled horror. "What on earth happened to your head?" "I don't know!" wailed Lucy, still trying to piece together the events of the previous evening. "I was hoping you could tell me." She had gone over to the initial crime scene in the hope that her friends might be able to fill in the frustrating gaps in her memory. But so far, all she'd done was provoke a gale of laughter, followed by some serious lecturing. Lucy was still smarting from the ordeal she'd had in the hotel. The fact she had put her blouse on back to front had drawn unwanted attention during her great escape. An elderly man, on his way back to his room, had nearly had a cardiac arrest when he entered the lift to see Lucy frantically trying to fasten her bra whilst shoving stockings into her tiny sequinned purse. To her everlasting shame, Lucy realised she probably resembled a hooker on the run from a disgruntled client, but there was no way she was hanging around to face the music with her hit and run. These things always ended in tears. She was still trying to block the memory of the last one-nighter she'd had, way back when she was in her first year at college. He had seemed pretty normal at the time, rather attractive in fact. Unfortunately, the morning after revealed her vodka goggles had been somewhat fogged around the time she'd gone to bed with the man-with-no-name. Brad Pitt had morphed into Fred Flintstone—with a bad oral hygiene problem. Lucy shuddered at the recollection. Oh no. This morning had been a lucky escape. Now all she had to do was make sure there were no other behavioural issues to deal with, and then go home for some sleep. Not that Megan was helping. She was too busy throwing herself whole-heartedly into the role of Lucy's erstwhile mother. "For fucks sake, Luce, we had no idea where you'd buggered off to! Matt was on the verge of calling the police!" Lucy raised one eyebrow in disbelief. "Oh ok, maybe he wasn't that concerned, but even so!" Lucy knew damned well Matt would have been far too busy making eyes at Sara to even notice what planet Lucy was on, let alone care to where she had disappeared. Megan's brother had a crush the size of Africa and it was growing larger by the day. It was just a pity Sara wasn't interested. Poor Matt. "If only I could remember what I did," Lucy sighed. She picked up a dirty glass from the table and stared mournfully into the dregs of some foul looking green liqueur. "Last time I saw you, you were knocking back the Absolut like it was lemonade." "Ohhh," Lucy groaned, "Why didn't you stop me?" "I tried, but you told me to fuck off." Megan folded her arms and scowled. "I was only trying to help," she said grumpily. "Yeah, I know you would have been, I'm sorry," Lucy quickly apologised. "I was just in a shit mood." She gave Megan a ghost of a smile. "I do remember that much at least." Megan's expression softened marginally. "Yeah, I'm, sorry too. For what it's worth, I told Matt not to invite Gary, but he didn't get my text until it was too late." "Doesn't matter. What's done is done, now." Lucy stood, rubbing her temples as her headache continued to throb like a thrash metal band on acid. She winced when her fingers brushed across the lump on the side of her head. "Whoever I ended up with last night will probably forever remain a mystery. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Ok, I'm off home to catch some sleep before I go to Mum's for tea." The thought of charred roast beef, followed by lumpy semolina, did nothing to lift her spirits. It was almost as bad as trying to recall exactly what she'd done last night. * Lucy's phone blipped just as she raised her hand to knock on her mother's front door, and she frowned. It better not be Mum asking me to fetch some bloody milk. Unfortunately, the screen told a different story. About last night, Gary had texted. You rushed off before we had a chance to talk—please call me! Xxx Lucy's blood ran cold. Oh fuck. She rested her head against the gravely texture of the wall, and wondered whether it would be a good time to slit her wrists now, or after dinner had been dished up. The horrifying realisation that she had probably gone to bed with Gary...again...made her feel like screaming. Why on earth did she keep going back to the bastard? Was it not enough that he had hurt her and let her down more times than she could remember? Apparently not as it now appeared she was still a masochistic glutton for punishment. On the bright side, at least she had no recollection of doing the deed. Clearly the earth hadn't moved enough to penetrate her alcoholic state of amnesia. Then she clapped her hand to her mouth. Maybe she hadn't even been conscious? That was even worse. The thought of Gary taking advantage of her whilst she was totally out of it was hideous. She just hoped he hadn't taken any incriminating photographs... For now, ignoring him was by far the best policy, so Lucy shoved the phone to the bottom of her bag where it was firmly buried beneath her collection of loose tampons and bus tickets. "Lucy! Are you coming in or what?" Her mum flung the door open and Lucy nearly fell over a yapping Pekinese. She gently shoved the dog out of her way and followed her mum through to the kitchen. The scent of over cooked cabbage virtually knocked her sideways when she walked in. Her dad was sitting at the scrubbed pine table, his nose buried in a copy of Anglers Weekly. "Hello, love," he said when he looked up. Then he frowned. "You look peaky today. Ooh that's a nasty bump on your head—how did you manage to get that? Is everything ok?" "I'm fine, Dad," Lucy replied hurriedly. "I fell over in the bath; no harm done." The last thing she needed was an in-depth analysis of what might be wrong. Besides, if she had no recollection of how she had acquired a blow to the head, how on earth was she going to explain it to her parents? "A good decent meal will sort you out, my girl," her mum commented predictably. She slopped a huge portion of rank cabbage on a plate, followed by some leathery looking beef. Lucy looked down at the panting Pekinese loitering with intent by her foot and knew which one of them would be eating the beef. It definitely wasn't going to be her. "Thanks, Mum," she managed to say through gritted teeth as the gravy and potatoes were added before the plate was placed before her. "That looks lovely!" * After seventeen increasingly irate text messages, Lucy turned her phone off and wondered what on earth she had ever seen in Gary. Ok, so he was good-looking and he drove a rather swanky BMW, but was I really that shallow? "Yes!" laughed Megan and Lucy realised she had been thinking aloud. She winced. "It was more than that," she said in her own defence. "We had lots in common." "Like what exactly?" "Like...films! We both enjoy arty ones." "No, Luce, you like arty intellectual films, he just went along to make sure he got laid at the end of the night." Lucy was horrified. "So you're saying he only ever wanted me for sex?" "Well look at the evidence—he spent three years making your life hell and when you finally push for a commitment, he says he needs space! Bollocks to that. The truth is, Luce, the bastard was happy with you while he got laid with no added complications, but as soon as he had to actually make an effort, he did a runner." She knew Megan was right. It was obvious really. Right from the beginning, Gary had told her he didn't do relationships, but like most women, she ignored the obvious and thought she would be the one to change him. "He wasn't even that bloody marvellous in bed," she admitted sadly. "Which is why I can't believe I fell for his bullshit again last night." Megan looked up from the sink with surprise. "What on earth are you waffling on about?" "Gary," Lucy said. "I think I ended up with him last night." "It can't have been Gary!" Soapy suds dripped all over the floor as Megan turned to face Lucy. "After you disappeared, he bent Matt's ear for an hour and then passed out on the sofa. He ended up staying here all night." "Then who on earth did I spend my night with?" "Maybe if you hadn't done a runner, you might have found out?" Lucy grimaced with great irritation while Megan smirked. Hopefully, after a good night's sleep, all would become clear. Surely by the morning, she would remember what and, more importantly, who she had done last night. Alcohol induced amnesia couldn't possibly last forever... * The office was buzzing when Lucy staggered in, rather late. She dropped her belongings on her desk and rushed over to the coffee machine. Despite sleeping like a dead thing, she still felt crap. After seeing her corpse-like complexion in the bathroom mirror, she had made an early New Year resolution to avoid vodka. Forever. It was safer that way. "How're you feeling, Luce?" Sara asked innocently when Lucy flopped down on her chair and collapsed face first on the pile of files some kind person had conveniently deposited. "Ooh that looks nasty," she then commented when she noticed the bump on Lucy's head. "Did you pass out at some point and hit your head?" "Ha. Ha. Ha. No, I walked into a cupboard." Sara looked less than convinced. "Oh dear, poor you. So, were you feeling pretty hung over yesterday?" "No, not at all." Lucy knew better than to tell Sara about her mystery shag. She wasn't known for keeping her mouth shut on matters of confidentiality. In fact, what Matt saw in her was baffling. The only part of Sara that stood out was her huge fake tits. "How 's Matt, anyway?" Lucy asked in an attempt to divert the attention away from her embarrassing behaviour at the party. "Who?" That kind of says it all, thought Lucy with exasperation. "You know, Matt, Megan's brother—the guy who drools every time you show up." A light evidently switched on in Sara's head. "Oh him!" Then she shrugged. "No idea. He went off to get me a drink and the next time I saw him he was sitting with some pissed guy on the sofa. I gave up on him and went into the garden for a spliff with a couple of guys from the Uni." She smirked in a Cheshire cat kind of way. "We got rather well acquainted." Lucy could only imagine how well acquainted that was. Poor Matt. He didn't stand a chance. Not that ending up saddled with Gary had helped his case. For a moment she felt guilty about that. But it wasn't her fault. Talking to Gary last night wouldn't have achieved anything. He had made his bed and now he would have to lie in it. "So you're not interested in Matt?" Sara looked rather surprised. "He's ok, I guess," she admitted with a shrug. "Why?" Lucy decided once and for all to get Matt's crush out into the open. It was obvious Matt was never going to have the balls to ask Sara out. "Matt fancies the knickers off you, but he's too shy to tell you." "Really?" Sara looked astonished. It was as if the idea had honestly never occurred to her. "Yes, really, now would you like his mobile number and then you two can make babies together?" "I'm not sure about the babies bit," Sara replied with a squeamish look. "But he is rather cute, so I suppose I could text him and see where he wants to take me. I'm free tomorrow as it happens." "Great." Lucy rapidly fired off Matt's mobile number and sat back with great sense of philanthropic well-being. Even if her own love life was a crock of shit, she was about to make two other poor sods happy. Probably not for long, though, knowing Sara's predilection for mix and match boyfriends. With a bit of luck, once Matt had finally sampled her dubious delights, he might realise she really was a vacuous Barbie doll and move on to better things. She could live in hope. As Sara strolled away, fingers flashing across her phone keypad, Lucy blearily looked towards the main office with a vague sense that she ought to be doing something useful before the Monday staff meeting at eleven. A tall figure caught her eye and for a moment she had a sudden feeling that he looked familiar. There was something in the way he raked his hair with one hand as he stood talking to Brian, the warehouse manager. She could have sworn she had seen this guy before, although where that might have been she had no idea. "Who's that?" she asked Sara when she came back from the photocopier. "He's the new sales rep." "And he hasn't worked here before?" "'New' generally does mean that, yes." Sara looked at Lucy as if she was stupid. "Jesus, you really killed a lot of brain cells on Saturday night. Be careful, Luce, binge drinking is seriously bad for your health." She frowned and shook her head. "I read that in Heat magazine last month so I know it's true." "At least I had some fucking brain cells to begin with!" Lucy muttered as Sara dashed away to answer the call that was making her mobile vibrate alarmingly across her desk. She looked back across the room, but to her inexplicable disappointment, the new guy had vanished, so she opened her in-box and began working her way through a long selection of very dull emails. It was just another manic Monday. * By mid afternoon, Lucy's head was throbbing again and she felt like crying. The day had gone from bad to worse and if it continued in its current vein, she figured a trip down the railway track for a chance meeting with the 17:10 from Kings Cross was looking attractive. Work was piling up on her desk with alarming regularity, yet her brain was refusing to process any of it. Maybe Sara had made a good point earlier. Maybe she had indeed fried her little grey cells. Or, more likely, simply pickled them. Whatever it was, she had had enough and wanted to go home. But since the day didn't officially finish until half five, she took a meandering route to the water cooler for a drink. There was only so much coffee she could drink in one hour. She decanted a plastic cup of water and turned to head back to her desk. Unfortunately, she failed to see the new guy approaching and promptly walked straight into him. Water went everywhere. "Oh I'm so sorry!" she apologised as she surveyed the damage. His tasteful lilac shirt was now see-through and she could see the delicious outline of a muscular torso, but the dark patch over his crotch was definitely more eye-catching. So much so, she was positively riveted. When Lucy managed to drag her eyes back up to his face, he was staring at her with a very strange expression. It was as if he thought he knew her, yet she was fairly positive they had never met before. Or had they? For a shaky moment, she had a strong sense that she should know who he was. "Have we met before?" she asked eventually when it became apparent he wasn't about to say a word. "You tell me?" Now he was being obtuse. "Would I be bloody asking whether I knew you, if I knew you?" she snapped. God, men! "Then obviously you don't know me at all," he said cryptically before doing an about turn and leaving the office. Lucy watched him go still prickling with irritation, yet sensing that she had missed an important clue somewhere along the line. If only her head would clear. Maybe then she might be able to make sense of the last two days. But that was wishful thinking, so she collected a replacement cup of water and made her way back to her desk to clock watch for the rest of the afternoon. Home time could not come soon enough. * "Are you coming down the pub?" Lucy looked up from her screen and blinked. "What's the occasion?" It was only Wednesday and she was still suffering after the weekend. The last thing she needed was another hangover. "Nigel suggested drinks. It's his birthday and he's feeling generous." Sara glanced across the room and smirked. "Actually, I think he's hoping Linda in accounts might be feeling more 'generous' after a few gins." They both looked over at the short, balding man who was currently gazing lustfully at the statuesque Linda. "Make sure you check your expenses claims in future!" Linda was growling menacingly. "I have better things to do than spend hours adding up your drinks receipts!" "Sorry, Linda," Nigel simpered, his eyes firmly focused somewhere in the middle of Linda's generous cleavage. She glared at him one final time, before striding off in the direction of the accounts office. Nigel was left clutching his expenses form, still rooted to the floor in apparent lustful paralysis. "Nigel's got guts if he thinks he can crack the Black Widow," commented Lucy doubtfully. It was rumoured Linda's first husband had died of unnatural causes and most men in the office were extremely wary of becoming her next victim. "Or he's just desperate?" ventured Sara with a grin. "Anyway, are you coming or what?" It was a choice between the pub and listening to her mother wax lyrical about the latest conspiracy theories surrounding cake-tampering during the local agricultural show. Needless to say, it was a no-brainer. "Yeah, okay, I'll come for a couple." * "Still suffering?" asked Sara when she noticed Lucy's fruit juice. Absolut Hell Lucy sipped the tomato juice defiantly and wished she had ordered vodka instead. She was in terrible mood and listening to turgid conversation for the next hour was unlikely to improve things. "No," she replied eventually. "I'm on a health kick and it involves ingesting five portions of fruit and vegetables per day. This counts as one portion." "Well I'm on the Atkins Diet and there's my next portion of meat," whispered Sara with a lecherous look at the bar tender mixing her cocktail. "You're disgusting." Lucy instantly regretted passing Matt's number to Sara. The poor guy was doomed. Sara ignored Lucy's jibe. Instead she leaned over the bar to pay for her drink, making damned sure her cleavage was on full show at the same time. Lucy saw the bar man's eyes glaze over lustfully as he passed Sara the drink, his fingers lingering way too long when their hands touched. It was obvious that Sara had pulled yet again. Are men really that shallow? That depressing thought kept Lucy fully occupied as she headed for the table where the rest of her colleagues were sitting. So much so that she failed to spot the plastic bag somebody had abandoned by a stool. Her foot caught in the strap and she tripped, falling straight into the lap of the new guy. Tomato juice flew all over him in ruby red rivulets. "Jesus Christ!" Lucy grabbed the first body part she could reach in an effort to extricate herself from the unfortunate tangle of limbs. When she realised it was his thigh, she let go as if she'd been electrocuted. Could this be any more embarrassing? His once lilac shirt was now pink and mauve and his expensive looking trousers were stained with a ruinous dark patch. Lucy's cheeks complemented the shirt perfectly: startling magenta. "God, I'm so sorry...again." "Are you always this clumsy?" His expression was one of complete exasperation rather than fury, for which Lucy felt some relief. "Well, yes, actually, I suppose I am." Subconsciously her hand reached up and rubbed the sore lump on her head. He sighed. "Would you like a replacement drink?" She stared at him in surprise. "You'd buy me a drink after I threw the last one all over you?" "I figure it's safer than watching you make another trip." His lip curled up at the corner and she blushed all over again. "What'll it be? Same again? Or would you prefer a vodka?" "No, I'm not—" She stopped abruptly. "How did you know I like vodka?" "You really don't remember, do you?" There was something going on beneath the surface and she had a feeling she needed to find out what it was. "No, remember what?" "We've met before—Saturday night to be exact." Lucy sat down with a bump. Her heart was pounding inside her chest so hard she wondered if he could hear it. "Where?" "You ran into the road, right in front of my car and I nearly hit you." She tried to recall doing such a stupid thing, but there was still a blank page in her memory. It was so frustrating. "Are you sure it was me?" It was possible he had mistaken her for some other drunken woman. After all, on the average Saturday night, there were usually hundreds of drunken women around. "Lucy, you're not that easy to forget," he replied with a faint smile. She knew then he was telling her the truth. At no point had she told him her name. "You really don't remember what happened, do you?" Lucy gazed into his orange flecked brown eyes and wished intently that she could remember what had happened. She had a strong feeling that she had enjoyed whatever it was. The guy was gorgeous. Who wouldn't enjoy a few hours in his company? "No," she admitted sadly. He stared pensively into his pint glass before looking up and saying, "Well then, I guess we'll have to start all over from scratch. My name's Chris." "Lucy," she replied, shaking his proffered hand and feeling rather stupid. "It's a pleasure, Lucy," he grinned. "Are you doing anything this evening?" "Erm...no, not much?" She decided it was probably best not to mention the pile of ironing and the box set of CSI she had scheduled to watch whilst doing said pile of ironing. "Great, me neither. How about we go somewhere a little less noisy and get something to eat?" Lucy glanced sideways and saw Nigel drooling as Linda knocked back another large gin. The top button of Linda's blouse had popped open and she was licking her lips suggestively. It looked like it would only be a matter of time before the Black Widow went into a feeding frenzy. Lucy cringed and instantly decided she preferred watching such stomach churning events on the Discovery Channel. She gave Chris her undivided attention. "Sounds lovely!" If nothing else, at least she could find out just what embarrassing things she had done the first time they met. She just hoped it didn't involve anything illegal. * Lucy sat down in the small, intimately lit Italian restaurant and briefly gave herself a sanity check. As far as she knew, Chris was not a nutter, but since she still couldn't remember the circumstances of their first alleged meeting, how could she be certain? For all she knew, he was already planning which nice bottle of chianti would accompany his fava beans and her liver later. But maybe that was a little paranoid, so instead she watched him as he ordered two drinks and tried once again to break through the memory block. Surely she would recall sharing a bed with somebody this sexy? Absently, she rubbed the still-sore spot on her head, and winced. Clearly the knock to her head had left lasting damage. That and the vodka abuse. When the tall glass of vodka, lime and soda was placed in front of her, she looked at it as if it were witches' brew. "Wrong brand?" Chris asked with amusement. "Or have you swapped allegiance to Bacardi now?" "No, I'm just not supposed to be drinking tonight." "Well at least that won't add any more stains to my clothing," commented Chris with a wry glance at his ruined shirt. Lucy buried her face in the menu and pretended that the long list of pasta dishes was utterly absorbing. * Several glasses of vodka later and Lucy was feeling no pain. She was also finding it remarkably easy to forget her previous vow to abstain from alcohol. Chris was a very bad influence, she decided as she laid claim to the last piece of delicious focaccia bread. He was also very good company. So much so that she could barely remember who Gary was. She had certainly never had such fun with that bastard. Not that Gary had taken her out all that often anyway as the majority of the time his idea of a date involved him getting laid before pissing off home in time to watch the footy. "Penny for them?" Chris asked when she failed to respond to something he said. "They're not worth that much," Lucy replied with a grimace. And Gary wasn't. She could see that now; it was just a pity it had taken so long for the enchanted veil to lift. "Anyway, thanks for the meal—I've really enjoyed it," she said as the waiter cleared their dishes and they were left contemplating the dessert menu. "Well at least this time you ate something before passing out," Chris commented as Lucy debated whether it would be rude to ask for a pudding as well. She instantly looked up in mortification. "Oh God, was I really that bad?" She hung her head in shame. Why oh why couldn't she remember any of this? "Yeah, you were pretty wasted," he laughed. "But you were also pretty upset, hence me not wanting to abandon you. I tried to find out where you lived, but I couldn't get any sense out of you." "Do you make a habit of playing knight in shining armour to drunken women?" "No, not usually, but then I've never had a woman attempt suicide beneath the wheels of my car." "I just wish I could remember!" she wailed. The waiter hovering nearby raised one eyebrow in concern before scuttling off, obviously deciding that she was mentally unhinged. "Well you did hit your head hard enough to pass out for a few seconds. I was going to take you to A&E, but when you came round, you insisted you were ok and that you just needed a drink of water, so I took you into the hotel with me." Lucy's imagination filled the gaps in what he was telling her. She cringed at the mental image of herself, pissed out of her head, emotional, and concussed to boot. It wasn't pretty. Why on earth he had taken it upon himself to help her was a mystery. In his shoes, she would have run a mile. "It was your bed I woke up in, wasn't it?" At least it wasn't some lecherous lout she had picked up in an alcoholic haze. Even better, at least it wasn't Gary's bed she had ended up in. The ramifications of that would have been far longer reaching. He nodded before drinking the final dregs of his beer. "I suppose technically it was the hotel's bed rather than mine." "And what erm...did we do before...erm me falling asleep?" She had to ask. If she had behaved like a total slut, then at least it was better to know now rather than hear the gory details via the office gossip machine. "We talked a little, you cried a lot, and then I watched a movie while you snored for England." "So erm...nothing happened?" "Lucy, whatever you might be thinking, I can assure you, I'm not the type of guy who enjoys taking advantage of drunken women. I prefer my partners to be at least semi conscious." Lucy scanned his face carefully to see if she could detect any signs of lying. But she couldn't. He looked and sounded like he was telling her the truth. Which was more than Gary had ever done, she reminded herself. He wouldn't know the truth if it came and bit him on the backside. "Then how come I had no clothes on?" Whilst she wanted to believe him, she still couldn't help but think that something had happened. He looked away and gazed intently at a large potted plant near the window. In an instant, Lucy guessed that her instinct was spot on—something had happened all right. Of course! He was just like all the other guys she had ever known. It was known as the 'mushroom effect'—feed her shit, keep her in the dark, and she was as happy as, well, a mushroom! "You erm...tried to seduce me," he coughed before she could fling abuse at him. In an instant, her face flushed with heat. "What?" she squeaked with horror, "But I thought you said I fell asleep while you watched a film!" "You did fall asleep, but not until you'd done a dance of the seven veils on me!" Lucy buried her face in her serviette and wished there was a deep fissure in the earth's crust, right beneath the restaurant, one that conveniently decided to open up and swallow them. Unfortunately, this was York, not San Francisco. "Oh God," she whispered, utterly mortified that she had behaved like such a trollop. It was obvious that Chris didn't fancy her or he wouldn't have rejected her drunken advances. Strangely enough, that stung even more. "Oh trust me, I wasn't complaining all that much at the time," he laughed. "I just didn't want to take advantage of you when you were drunk, emotional, and probably concussed." She peeked through her fingers at him. He was grinning cheerfully. "You could have put some clothes back on me once I fell asleep," she pointed out accusingly. "Nah, I was too busy enjoying the view." He ducked to avoid the serviette she threw with no accuracy whatsoever. * Water dripped from the edge of the awning that covered the restaurant entrance. Lucy eyed the large puddles that had collected on the pavement with great suspicion. "My shoes are gonna get ruined," she moaned. "Women!" scoffed Chris. He took her hand and dragged her out into the light rain that fell from an inky sky. "Do you live far away?" "About a fifteen minute walk," she told him as she jogged in an attempt to keep up with his much longer stride. It occurred to her rather crossly that at this rate they would probably make it in less than five. But the feel of his hand wrapped around hers was strangely comforting. Gary had never held her hand without much coercion on her part. He had always said he didn't like being affectionate in public. Of course she knew now that he just hadn't actually cared enough. However, she wasn't thinking about Gary, she reminded herself as they crossed the bridge over the river. By the time they reached her front door, her hair was plastered to her head and she knew she looked a mess. Strangely, she didn't care. Chris seemed in no rush to release her hand; instead he stared out over the twinkling city stretched out below. "Pretty, isn't it?" he commented after a moment. "I guess," she replied. "Suppose I don't notice any more. Been here too long I think." "Not much view from my hotel room. It looks out onto a ventilation shaft." Lucy felt sorry for him. Living out of a suitcase was crap. "You can come in for a coffee if you like?" It wasn't as if anything was going to happen, she quickly reminded herself. It was late, after all, and they both had work in the morning. Besides, the last time they had met, she had been rat-arsed. This time she was relatively sober and therefore fully in control of her wayward libido. "That would be nice." His teeth gleamed brightly in the glow from the street lamp and Lucy was suddenly reminded of a picture in an old fairy tales book she had once owned—the big bad wolf in Little Red Riding Hood had also grinned in much the same fashion...shortly before he attempted to devour poor, innocent Red Riding Hood. She shivered while being acutely aware it couldn't all be attributed to fear. Chris was forced to let go of her hand as she fumbled for her key. Eventually she opened the door to her building and they climbed the communal stairs. The light flickered on and off spookily and then went out, leaving only the emergency light glowing high above. "Bloody cheapskate landlord!" Lucy grumbled. "He takes our rent but never spends anything on this place." Just as Lucy turned to make sure Chris was behind her, the heel of her shoe caught on the edge of the stair. She felt herself falling sideways and reached out frantically for the banister, but her fingers touched nothing but air. Her head hit something painfully hard, and the world went black for the second time in a week. * "You have to be the most accident prone woman I've ever met," Chris told her when she opened her eyes, half expecting to see the stark décor of the local A&E department. Instead the familiar beige walls of her flat were in very much in evidence. Her head throbbed yet again, but something felt different. It was almost as if a door inside her mind had miraculously opened. In a blinding flash of recollection, she was suddenly blasted backwards in time to Saturday night and all the missing memories hurtled through her brain like a dazzling kaleidoscope. The argument that had sent her running from the party replayed in ghastly clarity... * "Why didn't you tell me about Hayley?" she had screamed as Gary sank down on one of Megan's rickety garden chairs looking shocked. "How did you find out?" "I bumped into her earlier," Lucy snarled. "Your ex wife took great pleasure in telling me you and she were now enjoying a reconciliation after your touching night of passion six weeks ago." He scowled and lit another cigarette. "It didn't mean anything. She rang and asked me to go over and sort the lawn mower out. We had a glass of wine and a chat and, well, one thing led to another. She did suggest we give everything another go, but I never agreed to anything." "How could you, we were still together then!" Lucy could scarcely believe that after everything she'd put up with, he had not even managed to remain faithful to her. She collapsed on to the lawn and fought the angry tears that threatened. Why oh why had she come tonight? "Oh come on, Lucy, it's not such a big deal," Gary wheedled. "I've really missed you these last couple of weeks. It's made me see how much I care about you." She heard the words but not for one second did she believe them. It was too little, too late. Unable to stay in his presence for another minute, she grabbed her bag and dashed out of the garden and down the road, the vodka she had consumed sloshing around in her empty stomach nauseatingly. The shops and flats merged into a teary blur. The pavements were fairly busy with Saturday night revellers and more than one person gave Lucy a passing glance of curiosity, but she ignored all of them. The only thought in her head was to get as far away as possible from the man who had messed her life up for so long. When she dashed across a road, hell bent on escape, it didn't occur to her to stop, look, and listen for traffic. Consequently, she failed to spot the silver car heading straight for her. Fortunately for Lucy, the car was travelling very slowly and it skidded to an abrupt halt before actually hitting her. The sound of squealing tyres registered briefly in her addled brain just long enough to stop her in her tracks. Her heel caught in a rut in the tarmac and she fell to the floor, hitting her head with a thump on the pavement. It was a painful end to her great escape. "Are you ok?" the man was asking when she came too. She opened her eyes to find a pair of russet brown eyes mere inches from her face. "Yeah, ouch, I think so," she managed to spit out. Everything was mixed up in her head and she wasn't sure what had happened, but she still recalled listening to Gary in Megan's garden. Fresh tears began to slide down Lucy's cheeks and she angrily brushed them away. "I think you ought to go for a check up," the man told her as she struggled to her feet, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her head. "No, I'm fine," she insisted. The thought of sitting for hours in the casualty department was hardly very appealing. "I just need to get home." "Where is home?" It was a reasonable question, but for the life of her, Lucy couldn't remember. "Erm actually I think I need a drink, or something," she stalled. Christ, if she admitted she couldn't remember where she lived, she would be carted off in an ambulance in no time at all. She hiccupped as more tears fell and bounced off the pavement. "Look," the guy said patiently, "How about you let me park my car over there and then I'll get you a glass of water in the hotel while you think about what you want to do. Ok?" It seemed easier to do as he said. She didn't have the strength to argue anymore. The fight had all gone leaving a broken shell behind. So she followed the man into the hotel nearby and gratefully took the glass of water he fetched from the bar. "Fucking men," she sniffed before gulping some down. "Oh dear," the man replied with a faint smile. "That bad, huh?" Lucy burst into another jagged bout of crying and the man passed her some tissues. Eventually there were no tears left to cry and she blew her nose rather noisily before dropping the tissue into the adjacent plant pot. "Sorry," she apologised. "Forget about it. Most fun I've had all evening." Her head was spinning and she felt like crap, but it was hard to ignore the fact this man was seriously hot. "What's your name?" she heard herself asking in a flirtatious voice. "Chris." "I'm Lucy," she continued. Then remembering what had thrown her into Chris's path, she asked, "Are you married?" He looked slightly taken aback. "You don't mess about, do you? Actually no, although I had a near miss two years ago." Lucy smiled and moved closer. He really did smell good: kind of sexy. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. It wouldn't hurt to sit here for a while. No. Once she had sobered up, she would ask somebody to call a taxi and head home, but not just yet. For now she felt...safe. "Lucy, the bar's closing. We need to move." Absolut Hell She opened her eyes and looked around. He was right. The place was empty and the bar man was glaring at them whilst repeatedly glancing at the clock on the wall. Shit. She must have fallen asleep. Suddenly the prospect of going home to an empty flat was very unappealing. Tonight was not a night when she wanted to be alone. "Is there a mini bar in your room?" "Lucy, I think maybe—" She shushed him with her finger before saying, "Please, I don't want to be on my own. My head hurts and I just want to talk." She wiped a tear from her eye and sniffed. "Well I suppose I ought to keep an eye on you if you still refuse to get a check up." He frowned. "Just as well I have a first aid qualification." * "Are you ok?" Chris was looking at her with concern when Lucy returned to the here and now after her jolly trip down memory lane. She rubbed her head. "It all came back to me," she said. "I remember everything." Chris sat down on the step next to her and took her hand. "Hey, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You didn't do anything bad!" Lucy sniffed as tears pricked her eyes. "I seriously can't dance though, can I?" The memory of wiggling around in Chris's hotel room to the soundtrack from MTV Base was mortifying. In fact, it was even more traumatic than the conversation she had had with Gary prior to her portentous dash across town. "I hate to say it, but no, you can't dance." She felt him shaking with silent laughter and turned round accusingly. "Why didn't you stop me!" "I did try, but to be honest, despite your atrocious lack of rhythm, I was quite enjoying the spectacle!" He stood and held out a hand. "Come on, you need a cup of tea and a lie down." * Lucy knew from the moment she opened her eyes that something was out of kilter. Her head still felt sore, but at least there was no splitting headache pounding behind her temples. She looked at the clock on her table: it was still early, so at least she was not late for work. So what was different? Had she done something bad last night? Then an arm snaked around her waist and somebody nuzzled her neck. "Good morning," said a gruff voice in her ear. She relaxed and smiled. It was Chris, and for once she had done nothing she was ashamed of. In fact, despite the rocky start to their acquaintance, it appeared she had finally met a guy who was absolutely fabulous. "Fancy a cup of tea?" She turned over to face him. "Not yet," he replied with a grin before kissing her senseless.