A work of fiction. All characters over the age of 18

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Part 1

I was going to die. I was sure of it. Of all the hangovers I had endured; college, graduation, birthdays, weddings, wakes and festivals, this was by far the worst. I pulled the covers further over me. My head felt as though it was trapped in a slowly tightening vise.

My husband entered the room. He was carrying a tray of pancakes and a glass of water. I sat up in bed as he placed the tray over me. My migraine flared and I groaned. How much had I drunk last night? I wasn’t even close to remembering. Mark leaned in and planted a kiss on my forehead.

‘Thanks for looking after me, sweetie,’ I whispered to him.

‘It’s just breakfast in bed,’ he replied.

‘Not just that. I mean everything.’

‘Oh, everything. Well, yes that deserves recognition and reward.’

I smiled and sniffed at the pancakes. My stomach rumbled but not in hunger.

‘Oh…I still feel rough. I can’t believe how sick I was last night.’

‘Were you? Haha, really? Oh Janey, you haven’t been that bad for a long time.’

‘Don’t you remember? You held my hair back as I threw up.’

Mark furrowed his brow.

‘Are you sure you’re not imagining it? I definitely didn’t do that.’

‘Oh.’

How strange. I could have sworn someone held my hair back and helped me to bed. And then…something else happened. Something odd.

‘Perhaps you’re right. I honestly can’t remember much now I think about it.’

‘You weren’t sick upstairs anyway. I would have heard you, I’m sure.’

I had definitely vomited. That particular memory was quite vivid in my mind. Mark scratched his head.

‘Do you think you might have been spiked?’

‘Possibly,’ I said, sounding more blasé than I had intended.

‘I do remember large parts of the night though. I remember coming home with James and then waking you up.’

‘I think you woke next door up as well with all the noise you were making.’

I cringed. I did have a tendency to become loud after a few drinks. We lived in a quiet cul-de-sac away from the suburbs and any loud noises late at night would certainly be noticeable to the other residents.

I sat up in bed and rubbed my temples. I knew there was something about last night, some memory or fragment that was lost but calling out to me to try and recover it. It was the most frustrating thing, like when you want to use a particular word and you can see the word, you know it’s perfect for the sentence you want to use it for but try as you might it will not materialise in your brain.

If I had not been sick in the house then where would I have done it? Back at the bar, the taxi, perhaps even in the garden. Each potential location was more ignominious than the last. I had made a fool out of myself and someone was there to witness the entire debacle.

Someone who had held my hair back while I puked my guts out. This much I was certain of. Mark kissed my forehead again and ruffled my hair.

‘Make sure you drink your fluids. I’ll be out in the garden. I’ll have my phone with me if you need anything.’

‘Ok, darling. Thank you.’

I sighed and watched him leave the room. He was too good to me. When we had first met then I would have laughed at the prospect of spending the next twenty years of my life with him. I had always gone after headstrong, confident, reckless men.

Mark was none of those things. But, he was safe and reliable. I knew that he would never let me down, lie to me or cheat on me. Part of me suspected that he didn’t really have the guile or ambition to do any of those things anyway.

We complemented each other and that was enough for us to be happy. It was a comfortable happiness. Not the wild careening euphoria of the most intense romances but a warm and secure love for each other. Our son James had arrived within a year of courtship. He has his father’s good nature and my curiosity and he is the quite the best thing to ever happen to me.

James…James brought me home last night. He had been working as a temp at my firm for the past six months. We had wanted him to go to university after graduation, but he had insisted on taking a year out to enter the workplace and earn some money for his education.

We would drive in together, him half awake and taciturn and me full of vim and eager to start the day. I would moan at him in the morning to get a move on or we would be late and he would moan at me in the evening for staying to work after our designated clocking off time.

He was conscientious and worked hard and it gladdened me to see my colleagues so complimentary about him. We worked in different areas but met up occasionally for lunch and coffee in the canteen. It was my first glimpse of him as an adult. Stepping out into the world and likely leaving me and his father behind. It was a happy time but laced with melancholy as well. I didn’t want it to be over and for him to leave.

The Friday night had been a celebration. The escort izmit company had won an award and the top brass had sprung for a night on the tiles complete with free bar and a long bank holiday weekend in which to forget any debauchery.

Debauchery. My head ached as I tried to recall more of the events of the night. I remembered going home with James first. We had both showered and changed into glad-rags before heading back into town. There was a blur though visions of endless flutes of Prosecco and Bucks Fizz kept cropping up. Were there shots?

There must have been shots. I had a healthy tolerance for wine and the occasional spirit but it was clear I had gone well beyond my normal limits this time. Yes, someone had definitely held my hair back as I threw up. There was something else though…it felt like they were pulling my hair as well. Or perhaps they were keeping me from keeling over?

I wasn’t sure what the worst embarrassment was. Not being able to recall all of your indiscretions or not knowing who to apologise to. James may know. I had been drunk in front of him before but never to the extent that I was last night. Mark mentioned he had brought me home which was a reassuring thought.

I hoped it was James who had attended to me in my moment of need.

Better my caring son than a stranger or someone from work. I took a swig from the glass of water and settled back into bed. I checked my phone. No unusual messages or cringe-worthy photos from any of my groups or contacts so perhaps I wasn’t the worst affected from the celebrations.

I pulled the back the covers back and closed my eyes. When I woke up I would have to check with James and get the full details.

Part 2

I awoke from a strange dream. I instinctively reached over for Mark but he wasn’t there. I checked my phone. 3pm. I groaned and lay my head back on the pillow. The dream came back to me. It was strange because it was a sex dream and I couldn’t remember the last time I had had one of those.

I thought they were a symptom of a lack of sex and whilst Mark and I were not exactly at the peak of our powers we still made time to fuck at least once a week.

Mark was a considerate lover. Unadventurous, yes. Bland, maybe. But he was attentive and enthusiastic and there was not much more you could look for in a lover. Or was there? I wasn’t bored as such because any couple who have been together as long as we have would carry some element of boredom. We were in a rut, but it was a pleasant rut. It was a rut I was satisfied to be in.

In the dream I was giving head. But it was nothing like the blowjobs I would give to Mark. This was fantasy fellatio. The type of blowjobs I imagined on Pornhub or other such sites. The man clutched my hair as though it were a type of strap and was using it to pull me over his cock. When I had gone as far as I could he let go and grabbed at the back of my head. He forced me down further until he had hit the back of my throat and I gave a muffled cry for release.

The dream shifted and suddenly I was lying on something…a table perhaps? My head was dangling over the edge. The man stood to the side, my head in his hands again. He fucked my mouth. His balls slapped against my forehead. It was relentless. His fingers tightened around my neck. His cock was huge. It felt like he was trying to saw his way through my skull with it. The pressure was intense. There was a brief nano-second of air to gulp down before my mouth was once more overwhelmed with this thrumming length of flesh.

I sat up in bed. Of all the fantasies I had lusted over, this feeling of submission and lack of control was unfamiliar. And yet…there was something so immediate about it. Something so real. I put my hand to neck. I couldn’t feel any tenderness or knots. There was a slight ache in my jaw, but I had just chalked this up to my drunken shenanigans.

My hair was a mess but that was a given since I had been sick and likely rolled into bed. A creeping dread fell over me. What if it wasn’t a dream? What if it was a memory? What if the man had taken advantage of me? It would have been so easy. I was without my faculties, blind drunk and barely able to control my motor functions. Easy bait for a predator or reprobate. I jumped up and rushed to the bathroom.

I looked haggard and tired. I chastised myself for my excesses. At the grand old age of forty-six I thought I would have learned by now. I undid my dressing gown and checked myself. Apart from a few aches there was nothing untoward. No bruises or marks. I felt my shaven pussy. No puffiness or tenderness. My double D breasts were starting to sag I noted mournfully. But still…I twirled in front of the mirror.

Aside from the hangover I was pleased with what I saw. Still tight in the right places and curvy in the better places. Still a figure that would make a man notice and pay attention and…possibly abuse.

I put my dressing gown on. I was more befuddled than before. I wanted so badly for it to be a dream, izmit escort but something was nagging away at me. It was linked to the episode of vomiting. If that was true, then the other thing may well have been true.

The hands that had brushed back my hair and held my hand as I was throwing up were also the hands that had gripped tightly around my neck as they guided their cock into my mouth. It was real. It had to be.

I lay stunned on my bed. I felt so foolish and helpless. Had I been spiked? I was normally so careful. I didn’t know where my complacency had come from. Who could have done this to me? Should I go to the police? I tried to piece together more of the previous night. Mark said James had brought me home and took me up to bed.

So, whoever had done this must have done it and then somehow managed to return me to my son. Who knows in what state? James was the key. He may well know who was responsible. I felt ashamed even though I knew I was a victim. I didn’t want to tell anyone. Not the police, not my husband and certainly not my son. How would I even broach such a conversation. I was lucky as well. I was sure it was just a blowjob.

‘Just a blowjob’, I thought. It was a brutal, incessant assault. An act of domination. My dress. Where was it? Perhaps there was DNA on it or other trace evidence. I got up and checked the linen basket. The dress was there. My favourite little black dress. It showed just the right amount of cleavage and leg. I gave it the once over. To my shame there was a splatter of what could only be vomit. There were mud stains as well.

I felt at my knee. It was sore but clean. There were no other stains or unusual marks that I could see. I suddenly remembered the cock pistoning in and out of my mouth. My saliva dribbling down over my face and into my hair. I ran my fingers through my long, blonde hair. Yes, there was a small clump near the top of my forehead. It felt brittle and dry. I sighed. Could I really call the police? Ask them to come around and collect what was possibly a handful of follicles stuck together with dried cum?

It felt stupid but also necessary. Greater crimes had been identified with less discernible evidence so why should I care? I knew why. I didn’t want to admit what had happened. I had let my guard down and someone had exploited the opportunity ruthlessly. It would get out. They would find out at work.

Outwardly they would be sympathetic, but behind closed doors they would gossip. The men would snigger and blame. The women would judge and tut. I held my head in my hands. No, I couldn’t go to the police. I couldn’t be sure they would even believe me. I didn’t have a suspect, there was no name of face attached to my assailant. Just the cold grip of his hands and the warm girth of his cock.

My mind raced. He had come in me. He had flushed his semen down my racked throat and into my belly. It was still in me. The legacy of his violation still swirled somewhere in my bowels. What sort of man was he? I wanted to turn detective. I wanted to discover him myself. What sort of man helped and then abused? A drunk, vulnerable woman who had just puked her guts up. Who could barely stand or form a coherent sentence.

I shuddered and laid out on the bed. I would have to ask James. I imagined he would not be as drunk as me and had a better recollection of the evening. I wouldn’t go into specifics or set him to worry. No, I had to be careful and probe with discretion. No-one could know of this.

Part 3

I lay restless in bed for another hour before getting up to shower. As the hot water washed over me I cried. It was only for a minute and was not cathartic in anyway. I stepped out and dried myself. Flashes of the previous night ambushed me. Laughing, joking, drinking. Then throwing up. A voice. A man’s voice as he purred his approval. I got dressed up and tied my hair into a ponytail.

The day was gone and I was just getting up. My headache improved after the shower. My sense of shame did not. But I was angry now. A righteous anger. I looked out of the window. Mark and James were in the garden weeding. They looked so similar. At 6’4, James was several inches taller than his father but they had the same aqua blue eyes and goofy smile. They had a similar physique as well, both strapping and heavyset. Not gym-toned by any stretch of the imagination. More Dad-bod than six pack.

James had never been much of a sportsman though he was a keen cyclist like his father. Watching the two of them as they laboured in the garden cooled my anger a little. I should tell them. That was the dream wasn’t it? Every woman wanted to be able to tell their spouses and loved ones of any trespasses or injustices perpetrated against her and then watch as they took revenge on the wrong-doers. It was a quaint image and served no purpose here.

I shuffled down to the kitchen and poured myself a lemonade. I waved to them but only Mark waved back. James hunched over the flower bed he was working on and redoubled izmit kendi evi olan escort his weeding efforts. There was some pasta in the fridge and left-over beef wellington. I was relieved as I was in no mood to cook anything. I grabbed a cap and stepped out into the sun.

‘Well, look who’s finally decided to return to the land of the living,’ Mark called out.

I gave a faux-laugh and winced inside. I had an urge to scream. Shout out the truth and let the world know.

‘Haha. I know. I’m a disgrace. How are you feeling, James?’

He stood up and gave a weak grin.

‘Not great, Mum. But better than you I’m guessing?’

‘You guess correctly, son of mine. Whoo. What a night! I don’t recall too much to be honest.’

‘Oh?’ He tilted his head.

‘I remember the bar and…I think one other place after that closed down, but very little after that.’

‘You’re lucky you have such a thoughtful son. Without him who knows what might have happened?’

James blushed and said nothing.

‘Yes, evidently. Well, you’ll have to fill me in on the gossip, James. It sounds like I missed out on a lot.’

‘Not really, Mum. Just the usual antics. I wouldn’t worry about it. It will all be forgotten by Tuesday.’

He nodded and crouched back onto the flower bed.

I chuckled and left them to it. I took my lemonade upstairs and sprawled out on the bed. It wouldn’t be forgotten. No, there was no chance of that. I wouldn’t just brush it under the carpet. I wouldn’t let it stand. I crawled back under the covers and went to sleep.

Part 4

I got up and checked the time. 3am. I sighed and turned over to face Mark. He was snoring gently in his sleep. I smacked my lips. No dream this time. I didn’t feel grateful though. I slipped out of bed quietly. I was famished and couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten. Oh yes, I thought. I could actually. A strange man had fed me a nightcap of cum. I almost laughed. It was a strange feeling, like gallows humour. Just the thought of it made me quiver.

That pulsing cock firing bead after bead of cum against my tonsils and down my throat. I tiptoed out of the bedroom and across the landing. There was a light on in James’s room. His body clock had obviously been thrown out of kilter as much as mine. I crept closer. There was no sound coming from within. He was either asleep or had his headphones in.

I gave a small tap against the door. There was no answer so I left and headed downstairs. I grabbed a banana from the bowl and munched forlornly on it. It was horrible, this feeling of helplessness. I didn’t even know how to raise the conversation with James. ‘So, before we got into the taxi, did you notice any weird guys hanging around with me? Did any of them look particularly rapey?’.

I opened the fridge and chugged on a carton of orange juice. The banana had not filled me up but my appetite had gone. I creaked back up the stairs. As I crossed the landing, James’s door opened.

‘Mum?’ he whispered.

I put a finger to my mouth and loped over. I walked into his room and shut the door.

‘Sorry, did I wake you?’ I asked.

‘No, I was up. Still recovering from last night.’ He wore shorts and a loose-fitting T-

shirt. He walked over to his desk and leaned against it.

‘Yes, I know. Look, I just wanted to apologise.’

He seemed taken aback.

‘What for?’

‘You know…making a spectacle of myself. If anything I should be having to look out

for you on a night out…not the opposite.’

‘Oh…don’t be silly it’s fine. I mean, what else was I supposed to do?’

‘Enjoy yourself, chat some girls up, I don’t know…whatever it is you young turks get up to these days.’

He chuckled and shook his head.

‘Maybe with my friends. Work colleagues? Not so much.’

I giggled.

‘Yes. That is a very good point. I hope you’re right anyway. I hope come Tuesday there won’t be any mention of me or any incidents.’

‘Incidents?’ He stood up and put his hands in his pockets.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘Oh, you know. Just general drunken tomfoolery. Like…I don’t know…being sick.’

‘Oh.’ He relaxed and sat back down on his desk.

‘Yeah, you were pretty out of it.’

‘Thanks for reminding me. I haven’t been sick from drink in a long time.’

‘It happens to everyone. It wasn’t that bad anyway.’

‘Oh. You saw my dress. There was some vomit on it.’

‘Yes, sorry about that.’ He rubbed at his leg.

‘Sorry? For what?’

‘I tried to aim you away from it, but you were shaking.’

‘You…tried to aim me. Wait…’

‘Yes. We got home and then I was helping you up the steps to the door. You dry retched and said you were going to be sick. I went to open the door but you stumbled around the back into the garden.’

The mud on my dress.

‘You got as far as the patio and tripped over. When I helped you up you were sick on me.’

‘Oh my God! I’m so sorry!’

He smiled and waved the apology away.

‘S’ok. I never liked that shirt anyway.’

‘So…I was sick here?’

‘Yeah, that’s why I was helping Dad today. Covering up the evidence in the garden, haha.’

‘I thought…I thought it was in town.’