part three: by piph
by jamelah
Posted to Stories on 2002-06-18 17:37:00
Parent message is 211103
following her nose into a room that barely passed as a kitchen, jamelah was immediately sorry. the room was filled with remnants of the previous wild night plus the stench of tuna toasting happily on the makeshift hotplate. groaning loudly she stepped over an unconsious form and stumbled toward the sink. trying not to look at anything too closely she grabbed the nearest glass and held it under the tap. drinking her fill and feeling marginally better jamelah turned to survey the room. standing next to the hot plate the owner of the tuna surveyed her back. she swore again remembering that she still didn’t have pants on. he smiled and jerked his head upwards indicating for her to look up. slowly as not to disturb her raging headache, jamelah turned her eyes upward. to her disbelief there were her pants rotating slowly above her head. one leg draped over the ceiling fan the other just clearing the top of her hair.
“fuckity. how the hell did they get up there?” she asked the tuna guy.
he lauged and launched into a long stream of that unintelligable language.
jamelah grabbed for the pant leg, tripping over the shoe of the unconsious form, and landed on her ass in a puddle of tequila. her pants, or what was left of them, landed on her head covering her semi tamed hair.