Thread: Lose the Shirt, Keep the Pants (Machiavelli x ScifiNudist)

Roslyn's mouth and throat was dry. She slid her arm out from under the blanket in search of the water-bottle she kept on her nightstand. When she felt only air where her nightstand should have been she thought this strange, but didn't fret over it. She shifted, and instead of the edge of her bed, her foot pressed up against something firm and upholstered. This was also strange. She sighed - feeling the dryness in her throat and chest and mouth. She groaned. Where was her water-bottle. She flailed her arm outside of the blankets again to no avail. She reached her other arm up to where her head was - her head was still at the top of her neck, that was good, she guessed, though with the pain beginning to shoot up her head into her temples the more she moved, the less good she thought of it. Her hand over her forehead, palm up, she pushed at the blanket that was covering her face and let the blinding light of day crash into her face. She dropped the blanket back over her face, hiding from the sun. Roslyn groaned piteously. Maybe if she just waited a little longer the sun would go away and leave her alone. Wait... Roslyn thought. There was something wrong with that idea... What was... Oh shit! Roslyn sat up, throwing the blanket off of her. She blinked, dazed by the light and tried to get her head to stop spinning and her eyes to focus. She was lying on the sofa under a blanket. She cast her eyes around her until she found her phone on the coffee table. She grabbed at it, missed, then sat up with her feet on the floor and leaned forward to grab it. In leaning forward, she threw up in her mouth. She ran, banging her shin on the coffee table in the process, and her shoulder into the bathroom door, to the toilet and continued throwing up, moaning out loud in agony as she swore into the bowl. Ten minutes later, Roslyn slouched, naked, to the kitchen for a glass of water. She rinsed out her mouth and then drank... and drank, and drank. The pain in her head was doubtlessly from dehydration. The dehydration doubtless a result of all the empty wine and beer bottles in the living room she had spotted briefly between couch and bathroom, and between bathroom and kitchen. Now full of water, she realized she needed to pee, and shambled back to the bathroom. She took a shower while she was at it, towelling off and then wrapping the towel around her head. Roslyn never wore clothes and so didn't bother wrapping a towel around her body. She returned to the couch and picked her phone up off the carpet. It was mid-afternoon. It was also Thursday. She had missed her only two classes for that day. She also had about thirty unread text messages. She didn't both to check any of them as she remembered why she had been drinking. She put her phone down and put both hands to her face. A surge of emotions swelled within her, more unpleasant than the bile had been earlier. She laid back down on the couch and resolved not to get up again for anything. Then her stomach grumbled. She groaned again and checked her phone again. She massaged her aching head, struggling to make her brain work and realized her roommate, Nicholas, would be getting home from class soon if he wasn't going straight to swim practice. Maybe if she could get him to take pity on her he would go get her something from the deli across the street... Roslyn looked at the coffee table and its strewn detritus. Oh shit, she said again. She remembered that, when she had drunk all her wine, she had then drunk all of Nicholas's beer without asking him first. Well, she thought, maybe if she offered to pay for the beer and for dinner for both of them she could convince him to go get it for the two of them. When she heard keys jingling as someone, presumably Nicholas, unlocked the front door to their shared apartment, Roslyn remembered how she had behaved with Nicholas last night when he had gotten home. Though for the life of her she could not remember how far it went - she remembered kissing him, but then... nothing. She pulled the towel off her head and laid it on the arm-rest of the sofa, sat up and turned toward the front door, face twisted with a mix of physical discomfort, regret, shame and embarrassment. For the life of her she couldn't think of anything to say...