In the morning, Benji had a splitting headache. He rolled over, groaning, and reached for the aspirin next to the bed and a water-bottle. He couldn’... remember getting home, really; he’d been tired AND drunk, but what he COULD remember was the previous night. He remembered sitting next to Roseanne, and her laughing, and her knee touching his leg. And—he remembered offering her his spare room if she hadn’t wanted to go home. It was much closer, anyway, and he’d had no malevolent intent. He had. There were no shoulder straps and I was certain she had no underwear beneath her dress as anything would show through the skin-tight satin sheen. Her long blonde hair had been expertly piled on top of her head in a stunning creation exposing her pretty face and shoulders to maximum effect. She gave me a knowing smile, her full lips pouting and moist, shiny red lipstick matching her dress. The whole creation was displayed to perfection by her open toed strappy stilettos with impossibly high. More

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