Make Amends Before It Gets Worse (From Third Book)

 I'd awoken with a womans arm around me and with enough
whiskey taste in my mouth to get me drunk again.
I take a look around and the room spins a nauseating blur and I
decide it's best to just go back to sleep.
 When I awoke the second time, the woman was pacing around in
her kitchen, making, what I believe to be, coffee. I sit up and grab
the bottle of whiskey at the head of the bed, take a soft hit, chase
it with a sip of water, then take another real good slug of Jim
Beam.
 She walked in the bedroom and a disgusted look flashed on her
face. She was holding a beer and handed it to me.
"I know how you drink Harold."
"Thank you," I cracked it open, "This was needed."
"Hah, no problem." She got really excited all of the sudden and squealed.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOHHH! Can I show you my new
stockings I just got? They're real high up, like, really, up there!
They make my ass look amazing!"
 I didn't care either way and she didn't need the stocking to help
any part of her. She sweated sex. You could see it in her eyes,
smell it in her hair, feel it with her legs draped around you, and
hear it in her moans for mercy. She slipped them on and I found
myself picking up my jaw.
 The end of man won't end in some sort of cataclysm. Christ, the
downfall of men will be caused by that woman's long enough legs
and her insatiable quench for sex.
 Now, i'm not to hot in the morning, but with the whiskey sitting
in my gut, and the bottle in hand, I took another hit (beer then
water chaser), and got brave.
"They're real sexy aren't they?"
I nodded. She continued showing it all then said,
"Oh! No! You should get dressed! I have to work in an hour and I
haven't even showered!"
And just like that, she walked into the kitchen, wiggiling it like it
was nothing. I moaned and laid back down.
"Come on now!" I heard from the kitchen, "Get up! Geeze, you're
worse than some of the kids I take care of."
I kicked my legs childishly underneath the blanket and moaned
again. This made her smile. Then she handed me my pants. I got
up and slipped my legs on through. I grabbed my cigarette pack
off the night stand and lit one up. She grabbed it out of my fingers
and took a drag.

 She handed me back the cigarette and gave me a kiss on the cheek
and put on her nightgown. Well, no more wiggle I guess.
I followed her into the kitchen and started grabbing my things.
My shirt, socks, wallet, keys, coat, scarf, etc. I put on my shoes
and she handed me a paper sack with a six pack.
"These are yours. Did you want the whiskey?"
There was only a gulp or two left. I took a hit and left the last shot
for her to take (maybe), kissed her on the cheek as I hugged her
good bye, and made some sort of plan that one of us (her) would
fall through with. But that's all fine of course. She's not mine and
vice versa.
 I walked out of the door way and heard her yell,
"Wait!"
I stopped and turned,
"I will see you soon, right?"
I smiled and said, "Yeh, of course."
She smiled, gave me a good one on the lips and went back inside
'Well, that doesn't happen often....'
I took the stairs down and walked out of the building. It was
around 1:30 P.M. on the busy Friday street.
I,
unshowered and unshaven. A drunk, hungover, beat looking man
on the sidewalk looking into the blue winter sky with nothing to
do but go home and what? Sleep? Drink? Eat? Write?
I don't know.
Hell,
none of it, probably,
ment nothing.